


Offer Me That Deathless Death

by marihy



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Happily ever after for Victor and Yuuri, Happy Ending, M/M, Mafia AU, Mafia Victor Nikiforov, Possessive victor, Russian Mafia, Smut, Smut starts in chapter 8, Victuuri as a bamf power couple, Violence, im sorry i love them i really do, jj and chris are villains, mila is a badass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2018-09-21 01:52:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 31,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9526583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marihy/pseuds/marihy
Summary: Yuuri was just trying to be a gentleman by walking the red-haired woman home.He hadn't meant to get whisked away by the top members of the Russian Mafia, he definitely hadn't meant to get two of the most powerful men in the world trying to kill him, and he definitely definitely hadn't meant to seduce the pakhan.But now that he's in this mess, he's going to fight to the finish.





	1. Chapter 1

Yuuri came to this bar every Sunday night with Phichit.

It was a homey, albeit rather dingy, little place owned by Yuuri's friend Minako Okukawa, and this Sunday night at the bar was just like any other Sunday night at the bar.

Phichit ordered wine, Yuuri ordered champagne.  Phichit told Yuuri all the latest gossip, while Yuuri sat and listened and interjected occasionally.  At around 10:30, Phichit would insist that Minako bring the tequila out and offer some to Yuuri, which Yuuri would politely refuse.  Phichit would pout and say he was no fun but end up getting caught up in the next bit of gossip.

The routine was comfortable and familiar to Yuuri.  There was no reason Yuuri had to question that this night would be any different from all the others before it.  No reason to believe this would be the night to change his life forever.

As the night drew to a close, Yuuri put on his jacket and smiled apologetically at Phichit.

"It's time for me to head out now," he said.

And Phichit waved goodbye and swore that he'd get Yuuri to have some tequila, just like he always did.

And so Yuuri left, trying to get that annoying pop song out of his head, no suspicion in his mind that this night could be any different from all the ones before.

Even when he saw the red-haired woman with her wrists pinned down by the dumpster in the alley way by some big brute of a man who was leering at her neck, he still didn't stop to think that maybe, just maybe, this could be a monumental night for him.

He did, however, race to intervene.

"Hey!" He screamed, "Get off her!"

The man stepped back a little, "She yours?  'Cause I didn't mean no disrespect, man."

Yuuri hated guys like this.  He gritted his teeth.

"So you're only willing to back off if you think she's taken?  You're essentially saying you respect a man's claim more than you respect a woman herself."

The man's eyes darkened.  He took a step towards Yuuri and drew himself up to his full height.  Yuuri gulped audibly, shut his eyes, and braced himself for the inevitable punch.

The punch never came.

Yuuri opened his eyes to see the man, eyes wide, collapsing to the ground with a hole in his head.

Yuuri shrieked.

He lifted his panicked wide eyes to see the woman holding a gun.  She turned her gaze towards him.

She definitely wasn't a Japanese woman, with her sloped nose and white skin and big eyes and shockingly red hair.  She looked like a perfectly innocent girl you might see in passing on the street, but the gun in her hands told a different story.

Yuuri scrambled backwards.

"Y-You- You shot him!" He stammered.

"No shit, Sherlock," the woman said, her accent distinctly Russian, chuckling a little.

"Oh my God, oh my God," Yuuri couldn't tear his eyes away from the ghastly sight in front of him.

"Chill," the woman said, "He was gonna beat you up and then rape me.  He's better off where he is now."

And she punctuated her words with a sharp kick to the dead man's head.

It was at this point that Yuuri realized that this Sunday night night not be as average as he had believed.

The woman turned and started to walk away.  "It's been fun, dude," she said, laughing.

Now Yuuri realized that by now, he probably should've called the police.  But he sensed something about this girl, something that told him that going to the police was a supremely bad idea, something that told him to hightail it in the opposite direction.

But he also sensed something that told him that this woman was in danger, and he couldn't very well let a woman who'd just been attacked walk herself home.  In the end, his morality won over his instincts, and he called after her.

"Wait!" 

She turned, an eyebrow raised.

Oh, he was so going to regret this.

"Let me walk you home."

She chuckled, "You want to walk the girl who just shot a man home?  How do I know you won't try anything on me?"

"I won't!" Yuuri promised, "You're the one with a gun."

"That's fair," the woman continued.  Then a look of realization dawned on her face, "Well look, kid, you seem nice, but well, I'm not interested.  I've kinda got a girl right now anyway."

Yuuri shook his head furiously, "No!  No, that's not what I meant!  I'm actually not into girls like that.  I-"  He took a deep breath, "I just think it would be incredibly rude of me to let a woman who just got attacked walk home by herself."

The woman appraised him for a second, one arched eyebrow raised, before curving her lips into a smile.

"Alright."

She tucked the gun back into her purse and offered a hand, "I'm Mila."

"Yuuri," Yuuri answered.

* * *

 

Mila hadn't meant to reveal her real name, but the boy looked so innocent and honest, staring at her with large genuine eyes, that it felt wrong to lie to him.

Georgi and Victor were going to skin her alive, but she couldn't let this soft cinnamon roll of a boy worry about her, could she?

"What's your girlfriend like?" Yuuri asked.

Mila bristled, suspicious, but there was no trace of malice or ill-will in the boys sparkling maroon eyes.

"Her name's Sa-" Mila stopped herself.  She usually told people Sara's name was Sala, but she couldn't help the twinge of guilt at lying to this innocent sweet boy.  "Sara," she blurted before she could stop herself.

It wasn't a lie.  She and Sara did all the things a normal couple would do.  They kissed, they made love, they snuggled, they hugged, they loved each other.

In another life, Mila would have vehemently stated that Sara was, indeed, her girlfriend.

"Sara," Yuuri smiled all the way to his eyes, "That's a lovely name.  I bet she's wonderful."

"She is," Mila smiled, her mind wandering for a second.

"So what about you?" Mila asked, "Any special boy?"

Yuuri blushed and rubbed the back of his neck, "Oh, no, no, no!  No one right now!"

"Oh, you'll find someone," Mila smiled, "Sweet cinnamon roll like you."

She wasn't lying.  Guys salivated over boys like Yuuri Katsuki.  Sweet, innocent boys who smiled to their eyes and were adorable when they blushed.

"Oh, here we are!" Mila said when they'd reached the motel.

Yuuri waited dutifully while Mila knocked on the door.

Mila had barely even knocked one time when the door swung open.

"Mila, where have you been?  We were supposed to leave half an hour ago!" Screamed the tall, thin, dark-haired man with a pinched face and a sour countenance.

"Calm down, Georgi, half an hour won't make a difference," Mila rolled her eyes.

Georgi scowled and started to say something else before he was shoved out of the doorway.

"Lighten up, Georgi!"

Victor Nikiforov leaned against the door frame, leering a few inches above Georgi, "We can leave now, and it won't make a difference at all."

Mila turned towards Yuuri smiling apologetically, "Sorry about my friends, Yuuri.  The sour one is Georgi, and the one who thinks he's God's gift to the world is Victor.  Thanks for walking me home!"

Yuuri smiled, about to say something when Georgi and Victor finally noticed him.

Georgi raised a thin eyebrow, his scowl deepening, but Victor stared at Yuuri for a second before relaxing nto an easy smirk.

"Hey there, cutie," he winked.

Yuuri blinked, taken aback, before flushing a brilliant red.

Mila rolled her eyes.  Victor Nikiforov happened to be one of those guys who salivated over boys like Yuuri.

Oh sure, Victor knew and understood the dangers of having relationships in this business, but that certainly didn't stop him from flirting with and fucking any pretty boy he saw.  Like Yuuri.

"Victor, back off," she said.

"Aw, man," Victor whined, "I thought you had a girlfriend."

"I do," Mila said, "I just don't want you fucking with Yuuri here."

"Who, me?" Victor said, winking at Yuuri with an appreciative smile, "Never.  Especially not with you, gorgeous."

Yuuri flushed an even deeper shade of red before stammering, "Uh, well, I-I should go, um, nice meeting you."

Mila opened her mouth to say goodbye, but just before she could, a bullet whizzed by her head.

In a split second, before all hell broke loose, she screamed, "Get down!"

* * *

It all happened so fast, before Yuuri even had time to react.

One minute he was blushing furiously at the, admittedly gorgeous, silver-haired man's advances, and the next minute Mila was screaming, "Get down!" And practically throwing him inside the motel room with a rain of bullets hailing in the background.

Yuuri landed with a crash, his head hitting the glass coffee table with a loud bang.

The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was Victor, pulling a gun and a knife out of his pockets and stepping outside.


	2. Chapter 2

Yuuri wakes on an unfamiliar couch, staring at a moldy ceiling as sunlight streams through the window.

 _"Where am I?"_ He thinks, sitting up, finding himself face to face with a very handsome,  _very bloody_ , silver-haired man.

The man smiles, "You're awake!  You were knocked out all night!"

Yuuri shrieks, scampering backwards.

"What?" The man frowns, "Is there something on my face?"

All of a sudden, the memories of last night come flooding into Yuuri's mind.

Oh, God.  What happened after he blacked out?  He takes another look at Victor, covered head to toe in blood, lounging on the couch like it's a normal day.

"Who  _are_ you?" Yuuri asks.

Before Victor can say anything, the bedroom door slams open.

"We don't have a choice!" 

"Don't give me that bullshit, Mila."

"He has to come with us."

"It's a bad idea!  He's a liability!"

"What's going to happen when they find them?  Torture them until they get information on  _us!"_

"You just don't want your precious Yuuri getting hurt.  Your time with Sara has made you soft."

"Oh, shut up!  Remember Anya?"

"That was different!"

"Why?  Because she dumped you?"

"That's not- We're not bringing him."

"Yes, we are!"

"I agree with Mila," Victor says, winking at Yuuri.

"Oh, for God's sakes, Victor!  If you would stop thinking with your dick for one goddamn second-"

"Well, _I'm_ thinking with my head, Georgi," Mila cuts in.

"Why don't you just ask Yuuri?" Victor says, "He's awake now."

Mila and Georgi turn to Yuuri, as if noticing him for the first time.

Mila smiles, plopping down on the couch next to Yuuri.

"Yuuri," she croons, "Listen."

Mila purses her lips, "Hmmm . . . Jeez, how do I say this?  Where do I even start?"

"Oh for God's sakes!" Georgi grips Yuuri by the shoulders, shaking him.

"We're part of the Bratva!  The blood-covered asshole sitting next to you whose brain is in his dick is the pakhan!  We were attacked last night!  Victor killed almost everyone but, because he's a lazy asshole, one escaped!  Mila wants you to come to Russia with us because she thinks that that man from last night probably saw you and whoever sent him will go after you and your family to try and find you!  I think that's bullshit and all of us are more in danger if you come with us!" Georgi says at rapid fire speed while shaking Yuuri like a rag doll.

Yuuri blinks, "Wait, what?"

A vein pops in Georgi's temple, and his eyes bulge out of their sockets.

The Bratva.

_The Bratva._

Georgi's words start to sink into Yuuri's mind.  Oh, God.  The Bratva.  And -Yuuri turns to his right to look at Victor- the Bratva's  _pakhan._. Oh, God, what has he gotten himself into?  God, why did he have to insist on being a gentleman?  He wouldn't be in this mess if he'd just let Mila walk home.

"Yuuri," Mila says, her voice soothing but firm, "Yuuri, listen."

She kneels down in front of him and looks him square in the eyes.

"Those men, who came last night?  Whoever sent them is after us.  I hate to say it, Yuuri, but there is no way they didn't see you.  We are leaving today, Yuuri.  We are leaving for Russia, and these men will use any means necessary to find us.  Including finding and torturing you and your family."

Yuuri's face goes pale, and his eyes widen.  "What?" He squeaks.  No, no, no, no.  Images of Mari, of his dad, of his mom, lying bloody and broken flash into his mind.

"You have to come with us, Yuuri," Mila says urgently, "If you come with us, they will not find you, and your family will be okay.  At least until we can find out who is behind this."

"Don't listen to Mila," Georgi says, "It's far more dangerous for you to come with us.  You'll get yourself, and us, killed.  We don't even know they saw you."

"But there's a chance they did?" Yuuri asks.

"Well, yes," Georgi admits.

Yuuri swallows.  He doesn't think he's ever felt more scared.  But the images of his family, lying dead, flood back into his mind, and he hardens his will.

"Then I'm coming with you," he says, determined.

Georgi's face pinches up like he just ate a lemon.  Mila smiles, satisfied.  Victor claps his hands excitedly.

The realization of the decision he's just made settles on Yuuri.  He is choosing to leave his family, everyone and everything he's ever known behind to run away with the _Bratva's leaders_.  It sounds like something out of a bad action movie, but this is real, and it is nothing like an action movie.  There is no thrill or promise of adventure, just the ever-looming presence of fear and the threat of death.  It is not fantastical and exciting, like an action movie. No, it is cold, hard real life, and that hits Yuuri in the face like a brick wall.

"It's the right choice, Yuuri," Mila says, "But Georgi is right about one thing.  You're a liability like this.  You're going to need to learn to use a gun, at least.

It's another line about of a bad action movie.  It's the line that starts the photo montage set to "Eye of the Tiger" or something where the protagonist fails at everything his mentors show him until he has some spiritual awakening and is suddenly a master at everything and can kill with no semblance of hesitation.

But this is cold, hard real life and to Yuuri, guns equate to death.  The thought of holding a gun, feeling its cold heavy weight in his hand, terrifies him.

"Yuuri," Mila's voice shocks him out of his stupor, "Yuuri, are you alright?"

Yuuri tries to speak, but his mouth is dry.

"Yuuri?" Mila asks again.

"No," Yuuri says hoarsely, "No I'm not."

"Hey!" Victor says, his voice full of cheer, "Look on the bright side."

He scoots closer to Yuuri, slithering an arm around his waist.

"This gives us an opportunity to spend some time together," he purrs.

It's too much.  It's all too much for Yuuri and he shoves Victor away from him, runs, and locks himself in the bathroom.

"Is he not interested?" Yuuri hears Victor ask.

"Victor, for fuck's sake.  You dense asshole," Mila says.  Yuuri hears her footsteps coming closer to the bathroom.

Yuuri crawls over to the toilet, curling up on it.  He finds it hard to breathe.  His stomach feels hard and empty, his limbs feel strangely detached.  His eyes are dry, and he tries to take deep breaths.

What did Yuuri do to deserve this?  What had he done to get thrown into this mess?"

He hears a soft knock on the door.

"Yuuri?" Mila says gently, "Um . . . Just come out when you're ready."

 _"I don't think I'll ever be ready,"_ __ __ __Yuuri thinks.

* * *

Yuuri doesn't know how long he's been sitting on the toilet, holding his tears at bay.

He can't cry.  If he cries, he doesn't think he'll be able to go through with this.

Outside the bathroom door, Yuuri can hear voices and footsteps, but no one has made any attempt to disturb Yuuri.  Yuuri is thankful for that.

Yuuri sighs and closes his eyes.  An image of Mari, lying on the floor with a gunshot wound in her head, forces him to open his eyes.

He has to do this.  He has to be strong for his family.  He has to be strong for his mom and his dad and Mari and Phichit and Minako.

He has to do this.

And so he takes a deep breath and pushes open the door.

Mila is shoving a bundle of clothes into a duffel, Georgi is trying to zip up a backpack that has been stuffed too full, and Victor is cleaning off a bloodstained knife.

Yuuri's eyes flit away from the knife, but he forces himself to look.

 _"You can't get squeamish, Yuuri,"_ he tells himself,  _"Look at the knife."_

He looks at it, memorizing the shape of the crusted blood on the blade before Victor's voice, surprisingly gentle, shakes him out of his stupor.

"Yuuri?" He says, the name rolling off his tongue.

It sounds lovely in his accent, Yuuri thinks dully.

Victor puts down the knife, "Yuuri?"

Yuuri remains silent.

Victor walks over to Yuuri cautiously, "Yuuri, are you alright?"

Yuuri looks up to meet his eyes, "When are we leaving?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So poor poor yuuri!! And Victor is so dense he's just like why doesn't the cute Japanese boy like me ;_;


	3. Chapter 3

Yuuri should've been more terrified.

Oh sure, he was absolutely shaking in fear when he thought of the dangers he faced, when he thought of what could happen to his family.

But he wasnt as scared as he should've been of Victor and Mila and Georgi.

He was definitely a little wary and apprehensive, but for some reason, he wasn't scared.

He'd been sitting on the couch for about half an hour, watching them stuff duffel bags full of guns and suitcases full of knives, lugging them to the dirty Jeep in front of the motel room.

Rationally, he told himself as he watched Victor good-naturedly ruffle Mila's hair while she swatted him on the arm, he should be terrified.  They're part of the  _Bratva._ Victor is the freaking  _pakhan._. He should be petrified in fear.

But Yuuri couldn't be scared of Mila, who kept asking him if he was okay with worry in her eyes.  He couldn't be scared of Victor, who kept wrapping his arms around Yuuri's waist and demanding attention (though Yuuri was sure that Victor was that way with everyone because there was no way anyone as handsome -and as powerful and dangerous- as Victor would want to hit on him).  He couldn't even be scared of Georgi, who looked at his friends with fondness despite his disapproving scowl.

He watches Georgi stuff a shirt in his duffel, and he realizes something suddenly.  He almost laughs out loud; this certainly would never pop up in an action movie.

"Um . . . Mila," he calls.

"Yeah?" Mila calls from outside where she's shoving a suitcase into the Jeep's trunk.

"I don't have any . . . Stuff," Yuuri says.

"Stuff?" Mila pokes her head inside.

"Like," Yuuri gestures with his hands awkwardly, "Clothes . . . A toothbrush . . . You know, stuff."

Yuuri has to laugh a little at the ludicrousness of it all.  In action movies the protagonist somehow manages to have a new badass outfit every day and perfect hygiene.  In the midst of such a serious situation, it's laughable that this should be an issue.

Mila chuckles, "Shoot, I didn't think of that.  Um, I guess we'll get you some stuff the next town we pass over?  Jeez, I'm sorry, Yuuri."

She laughs and shakes her head.

_The next town over._

The ever-present fear of this journey (Journey?  Should he call it a journey?  That sounds awfully cheesy) ahead of him seeps in again.

He may never see his family again.

Ever.

The smiling faces of his mom, his dad, Mari, Minako, Phichit, float in his mind's eye.

He feels a pinch in the back of his throat.  A pinch that usually signals the coming of tears.

"Yuuri?" Mila calls, "Ready to go?"

Yuuri shoves the image out of his brain.   _"You can't cry, Yuuri,"_ He tells himself,  _"You have to be strong."_

"Coming!" He calls.

Five minutes later, he's packed in the back of the Jeep, sandwiched between a suitcase and Georgi's hunched frame.

"I'm driving!" Victor screams, shoving Mila out of the way and snatching the keys out of her hand, "You drove last time!"

Victor smirks, "And that means I get the aux chord."

Mila groans, "Noooooooo."  She slumps back in the passenger seat, slamming her head against the seat.

Georgi rolls his eyes, "If you play Elton John one more time I will scream."

Mila turns to Yuuri.  "He really likes British bands from the late 1900s," she sighs, "Especially Elton John.  I think it's 'cause he and Elton John are both so gay."

Yuuri giggles a little, despite himself.  Victor laughs but doesn't negate her.

He plugs in his phone, and a soft song Yuuri might've heard before blasts out of the tiny Jeep speakers.

 

_Blue jean baby, L.A lady, seamstress for the band_

_Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man_

_Ballerina, you must've seen her dancing in the sand_

_And now she's in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand_

 

Mila groans.  Georgi huffs.  Victor laughs.

"This song's called 'Tiny Dancer'," he says to Yuuri.  And then he starts  _singing._

He's not particularly good, but he's not bad either.  What surprises Yuuri is how into it he gets, shutting his eyes and throwing his head back and belting the lyrics at the top of his lungs.

 

_Hold me closer, tiny dancer_

_Count the headlights on the highway_

_Lay me down in sheets of linen_

_You had a busy day today_

 

He turns to Yuuri, a wide smile spreading across his face.  He caresses Yuuri's face, his fingers resting under Yuuri's chin as he sings:

 

_Hold me closer, tiny dancer_

 

Yuuri flushes but can't help but smile at Victor's infectious giddiness.

Mila smacks Victor's arm.

"Victor, eyes on the road!" She says, "You can flirt with Yuuri later."

"I'm the pakhan.  I do whatever I want!" Victor says childishly, and he actually sticks his tongue out.

"Victor!" Mila swats him again.

Victor pouts but turns back to the wheel, still singing.

 

_But, oh, how it feels so real_

_Lying here with no one near_

_Only you and you can hear me_

_When I say softly, slowly_

* * *

 

They're at a rest stop for gasoline, five song-filled hours later.  Georgi and Mila are buying snacks, and Victor is filling the gas tank.

Yuuri is stewing in contemplation inside the car.

Georgi and Victor and Mila are a lot more . . . Human, than he would've thought, would've liked to think.

Victor, childish and endearing.  Mila, fiery and bold.  Georgi, proud and emotional.

Yuuri knows these are people that have killed, people that have committed unimaginable crimes.

And yet, they are so  _human._

Yuuri cannot associate them with criminals.  His mind can't do it.  He knows this isn't going to be an easy trip.  He knows he'll see a side if them he doesn't want to see -in fact he's already seen Mila kill someone, even though it was dark and Yuuri didn't see it very well- but as he watches Mila and Georgi race back to the car, arguing about whether barbecue or sour cream and onion chips are better, he can't see them as criminals.

"Yuuri!" Mila tears the door open, "Which do you like better:  barbecue or sour cream and onion."

Yuuri laughs, "Barbecue, of course."

"Ha!" Mila laughs.

Georgi scowls, "You two have such simple taste buds."

Yuuri didn't think he'd find himself giggling this much on this trip.  He feels a pang of guilt for having fun, but quelches it before it can bring up unwanted images of his family.

He has to make the best of this.  He has to take what life has given him and be strong.  He has to do it for his family.

So he laughs and smiles along as Mila and Georgi interrogate Victor on his favorite flavor.  He pushes all thoughts if his family, of his home, away.

He cannot think of that now.  He cannot allow himself to be sad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi thanks so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed this and please leave a comment if you can!


	4. Chapter 4

Yuuri has come to the realization that Victor might actually be trying to sleep with him.

That knowledge makes Yuuri's life so much more difficult.

It's impossible not to blush, now, whenever Victor tries to flirt with him. It's also impossible to look at Victor without imagining him naked, and thus, blushing even more.

"I know someone who can take us to from Akita to Vladivostok," Victor says, leaning over a map in their motel in Morioka, "From there it's a five-day car trip to St. Petersburg."

Victor smirks, wrapping an arm around Yuuri's waist, fingertips resting on the top of Yuuri's thigh. He pulls Yuuri's body flush with his.

"So that gives us plenty of time to get to know each other," he purrs.

Yuuri feels prickly heat crawl up his neck, and he ducks his head shyly.

"Keep it in your pants, Victor," Mila rolls here eyes.

"No promises," Victor winks.

Yuuri has to excuse himself to the bathroom before he explodes from blushing too hard. One of these days, he's going to blush himself to death, and it will be all Victor's fault.

* * *

  
Yuuri steps out of the dressing room. He doesn't understand why Mila is making him try on pants. He knows his size, but Mila insists on a fashion show.

"These are too tight," Yuuri says, running his hands over the pockets of the jeans he's wearing.

"I think they look great!" Mila claps her hands, "Victor, what do you think?"

Victor smiles, stepping forward and placing his hands on Yuuri's hips. Yuuri gulps audibly.

"I think they look great," Victor winks, "They show off how cute your butt is."

Yuuri flushes hot and red.

The cashier looks up from her magazine, "I have to agree with your boyfriend."

Yuuri squeaks, pulling away from Victor. "Uh, is it hot in here?" Not waiting for anyone to answer, he stammers, "I'm hot."

"Yes, you are," Victor smiles.

Yuuri feels heat creep into his cheeks again, "Uh, I need some air."

And he promptly runs out of the "Employees Only" side door into the alleyway.

"You're not allowed to use that door!" The cashier calls after him. He barely hears her.

He's leaning against the wall, trying to force himself to calm down when he's suddenly spun around and slammed against the wall.

Yuuri lets out a startled squeak and looks up to see a tall, probably American, man with a scar over one of his glinting green eyes, leering down at him.

"You're not Russian," he says.

Yuuri manages to catch a glimpse of the knife in his pocket.

"What's a Japanese boy like you doing with the Bratva? The pakhan of the Bratva no less?"

Yuuri cannot speak, his throat constricted in fear. His legs thrash wildly and uselessly, and his heart is pounding.

His mind, blank with terror, can only muster one thought. "Well, I guess I was right about Victor being the cause of my death."

"Hmmm . . . It doesn't look like you're part of the Yakuza or anything, otherwise you'd fight me," the man says thoughtfully, then he chuckles, "Someone who knows information about the Bratva and can't fight back? Leroy will be pleased if I bring you to him."

The threat of torture hangs in the air, and Yuuri's mind comes to life, racing with thoughts.

"Ohgodimgonnadiethisisitinevergottosaybyetomyfamilyimgonnadie."

Yuuri pounds desperately at the fists holding him in place, thrashing wildly to no avail.

The man pulls out his knife, the blade glinting in the sunlight. Yuuri shuts his eyes and waits for the inevitable blow.

But it never comes. He feels the pressure of the man's fists lift, and he opens his eyes to see Georgi throwing the man to the ground and punching him in the jaw.

Blood spurts from where Georgi's first connects with the man's face, and Yuuri scrambles backwards. Victor and Mila approach, their expressions stony. Yuuri lifts his eyes from the man on the ground to see Victor pull a gun out of his jacket pocket.

Yuuri's breath catches in his throat. He knows what's coming.

The man starts to crawl up from where he lies on the floor, but before he can get to his feet-

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The shots pelt the man, his limbs twist awkwardly like some odd jig.

The man falls, his glinting green eyes wide open like a startled rabbit's.

Victor leans over, lifting the man's head by his hair.

He pulls the man's jaw open, placing the pistol against the road of his mouth. Victor smiles a twisted smirk, a completely different smile from the one he gave Yuuri in the store.

He pulls the trigger.

The back of the man's head blows up.

Yuuri screams.

He thought he might be more prepared for this after seeing Mila shoot that man outside the bar that night when this all started, but he isn't.

He's discovered that a clean shot from a small distance in the dark pales in comparison to the gruesome sight in broad daylight in front of him.

Yuuri doesn't want to look, but he cannot tear his eyes away. Mila races towards him, slapping a hand over his mouth, and he realizes he has not stopped screaming.

"We have to go," Georgi says, "The police will come soon. We have to get out of the city."

Yuuri stares numbly at the body in front of him. It's so horrible, it's so disgustingly gruesome, but he cannot look away. He feels bile rise up in his throat, sharp and acidic, and he turns, shoves Mila's hand away and throws up all over the floor.

"Yuuri," Mila says, "Yuuri, we have to go."

Yuuri doesn't move.

"Yuuri!" Victor shakes Yuuri's shoulders, "Yuuri, we have to go!"

Yuuri nods slightly. "Right, right," he says disjointedly.

He lets Victor grab his hand and pull him away.

* * *

  
Two hours later, Yuuri stare out the car window, watching the scenery pass by, but only seeing that man's body, the back of his head gone.

They were different, Georgi and Mila and Victor, when facing that man. They weren't the Georgi and Mila and Victor whom Yuuri knows.

They were . . . Well, they were exactly what they're supposed to be. They were criminals, Yuuri thinks, remembering the coldness in Mila's eyes, the brutality of Georgi's punch, the bang of Victor's gun.

Victor's gun.

The sound of it rings in the back of Yuuri's mind, over and over again.

"Yuuri?" Mila asks softly. It's the first thing anyone has said this whole car ride.

Yuuri looks up at her.

"Yuuri," she hesitates, "I know you probably don't want to think about it, but . . . Did that man say anything to you?"

"Mila, don't push him," Victor says.

"No, it's okay," Yuuri says, his voice faint. He swallows. "It's okay," he says, his voice a little stronger.

"Um . . . " Yuuri tries to think back to what the man said when . . . When he was alive.

"Well, he wanted to know what I was doing with the Bratva, and he said something about taking me back to someone named Leroy?" Yuuri says hesitantly.

"Leroy," Victor's hands clench around the wheel.

"Who's that?" Yuuri asks.

"Leader of the Canadian mafia," Mila says grimly, "And definitely not my favorite person."

So the man was Canadian, not American.

Mila furrows her brow, "Wait. Victor, did you see the tattoo on that man's hand?"

"No," Victor says curiously, "Why?"

"Those men. That attacked us in Hasetsu. I saw that symbol on someone's hand."

"So Leroy knows where we are," Victor says, his face hardening, "Change of plans. We have to get out of Japan as soon as possible. We spend only one night in Akita. I'll call my contact and have him take us to Russia tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

Yuuri will have to leave Japan, the country he's lived in all his life, tomorrow. He isn't ready. He feels acid crawl up his throat again, and he grabs Mila's empty bag of barbecue chips and pukes again in it.

"Yuuri, are you okay?" Mila asks, concerned.

"I'm fine," Yuuri snaps.

He turns to stare out the window again. Victor's playing "Tiny Dancer" again, and he tries to focus on the lyrics instead of the never-ending rhythm of gunshots in his brain.

 

_Hold me closer, tiny dancer_

  
_Count the headlights on the highway_

  
_Lay me down in sheets of linen_

  
_You had a busy day today_

* * *

 

  
_Limbs twist awkwardly like some odd jig_

  
_Glinting green eyes wide open like a startled rabbit's_

  
_A jaw pulled open_

  
_Pistol against the roof of his mouth_

  
_BANG!_

  
_The back of the head's all blown up._

  
_The man's dead._

_Wait, no, it's not the man. It's his mother._

_No, it's his father._

_No, it's Mari._

_No, it's Minako, it's Phichit, it's Yuuko, Takeshi._

_Yuuri feels a cold, heavy weight in his hands._

_He looks down._

_He's holding a bloody pistol._

_He screams._

 

  
Yuuri shoots up with a start, panting. He takes in his surroundings. The fan on the ceiling, the chair and coffee table across from him.

Mila and Georgi sleep soundly in one room while Victor snores in the other. Yuuri had insisted on taking the couch despite their protests. He was afraid that if he woke up on a bed, he might believe he was back in Hasetsu.

Yuuri rolls over, trying to get comfortable again, but the couch feels hard and lumpy all of a sudden. He tries to close his eyes, but the image of the dead man is imprinted on his eyelids. He can see the vivid outline of the blood splattered on the floor, he can perfectly picture the mess of brain matter and blood where the man's head used to be, he can remember the exact position of the man's limbs strewn on the floor.

This isn't working. Yuuri gets up and walks to the kitchen.

He fills a glass of water, gulping it down.

"Can't sleep?"

Yuuri turns to see Victor, with his hair messy and his shirt off, walking towards him. He smiles at Yuuri, and this isn't the Victor who shot that man.

Yuuri nods, "What about you?"

"Insomnia," Victor responds, pouring himself a glass of water.

Yuuri's eyes trail down Victor's bare torso, an act that doesn't go unnoticed by Victor.

"You know," Victor says, setting down his glass of water, "Since we're both up . . . "

He strokes Yuuri's arm, his hand resting on Yuuri's wrist, "There are other things we could be doing."

Victor's touch is soft, and it reminds him of just how long it's been since someone has touched him so softly. It reminds him of his family. He feels tears prick in the back of his eyes.

No. He will not let himself cry. He's come this far, he's watched a man's brains blow out, he cannot break now.

So before the tears can spill out, he reaches up, grabs Victor's shoulders and presses their mouths together.

Victor responds immediately, tugging Yuuri closer by the hips. He bites Yuuri's bottom lip, and Yuuri moans into his mouth. Victor places wet, open-mouthed kisses against Yuuri's jaw, before stopping to suck at a point on his neck. Yuuri lets out a gasp.

"Wanna take this to my room?" Victor says as he moves Yuuri's shirt to kiss down his shoulder.

Yuuri shuts his eyes and lets his head fall back. "Yeah," he answers.

Sex with Victor is as fantastic as Yuuri could've dreamed of. Victor sucks and bites at his skin, leaving no place unmarked, and every thrust is a direct hit to Yuuri's prostate that has him begging for more.

And Yuuri will surely feel guilty for this in the morning, surely feel awful, but for one blissful, orgasmic night, Yuuri doesn't think about his family once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi thanks so much for reading! And yes I'm aware that the Russian Mafia operates out of Moscow but I wanted to do st Petersburg for this fic so yeah. Also guys Victor doesn't know what Yuuri is going through so this isnt Victor taking advantage of Yuuri's emotions he genuinely doesn't know what Yuuri is feeling because he can't relate also this is completely consensual and Yuuri is still really thirsty for Victor despite his sadness


	5. Chapter 5

"Wake up!" Mila screams, pulling the covers off of the bed.

Yuuri's eyes pop open before realizing that he's bare-ass naked and curling up around himself with a shriek.

Mila rolls her eyes, "Oh, come on.  It's nothing I haven't seen before."

Then she smacks Victor on the shoulder, "Get up, you lazy asshole. We're leaving in twenty minutes."

Mila stalks out of the room.

Victor sleepily blinks his eyes open, yawning and stretching his arms above his head. Memories flood Yuuri's head and he can feel a blush coming on.

"Did that seriously just happen?" Yuuri asks himself, "Did I seriously just have sex with the Russian _mafia boss_?"

Yuuri peeks at Victor only to quickly look away and flush even redder when he notices the maze of scratch marks on Victor's back.

Victor turns to Yuuri with a smile, "Good morning, Yuuri."

"Um . . . Good morning," Yuuri looks down at his crossed legs and- Oh, God.

There is a smattering of dark purple and faint pink bruises and bite marks on his inner thighs from his knees up to his crotch.

Yuuri jumps up from the bed, bolting to the mirror.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

The marks stretch down from the bottom of his jaw to his chest and shoulders and stomach. Yuuri is absolutely covered. There is no item of clothing invented that could hide all of this. He buries his burning face in his hands. Oh, my god. That really happened last night. More memories flood back into his mind, and he turns to look for his clothes in order to avoid looking at Victor.

Yuuri scrambles for his shirt, but as he leans up to put it on, his eyes meet Victor's and Yuuri feels his ears burn. Victor stares at him like he's a piece of sweet cake that he desperately wants to eat. His eyes are smoldering, raking over Yuuri's bare body, and a smirk plays on his lips.

Yuuri turns away quickly. He really needs to control his blushing.

"Last night was fun," Victor says as Yuuri pulls on his pants.

Yuuri isn't sure how to respond so he settles with saying, "Um . . . Yeah."

"I haven't had sex that great in a long time," Victor muses, his eyes still trained on Yuuri's body.

Just when Yuuri was sure he couldn't blush any more. Yuuri chokes on air but chooses not to respond. How was he supposed to tell Victor he was a virgin? He was pretty sure now definitely wasn't the time to bring it up.

Victor's words spur even more memories, and Yuuri finds himself remembering the way Victor's lips had felt on his neck, the way Victor's bruising fingertips gripped his hips, the way Victor had groaned his name so desperately.

"Yuuri," Victor sidles up behind Yuuri, reaching to clutch his hips. "What are you think about?" He purrs into Yuuri's ear, his mouth centimeters away from a particularly large hickey under Yuuri's jaw.

"Uh . . . I . . . " Yuuri sputters incoherently.

Victor chuckles, low and gravelly in Yuuri's ear, "You're cute when you're flustered."

He leans in to kiss softly below Yuuri's ear. Yuuri flushes but tips his head back against Victor's shoulder.

"Um, hello?" Mila screams, yanking the door open, "Time to go! Stopping making out and get ready!"

"We're coming!" Victor calls, releasing his grip from Yuuri's hips.

He winks, and Yuuri realizes that Victor is still naked.

He runs out the door before he can get an unwanted boner.

* * *

  
Victor's contact is an excitable, young man named Minami Kenjirou.

"Minami is part of the Yakuza," Victor says when he introduces him.

Minami's hair is dyed blond and red and it's a mess. His eyes are wide and excited, his skinny frame wrapped in clothes far too big for him.

He looks like a boy, not like a mafia member.

Minami seems very excited to have another Japanese on board. He eagerly shows Yuuri around his boat, bragging about its speed, its durability.

He seems intrigued by everything Yuuri says and often makes Georgi drive the boat so he can talk to Yuuri.

"Like I said, it's a five-day car trip," Victor says, "So, considering all stops we make, it should only be two weeks before we get to St. Petersburg."

Two weeks. Wow. That's a long time. A weight sinks in Yuuri's stomach.

"Wow, St. Petersburg!" Minami interjects excitedly, "I wanna go some day."

He turns to Yuuri, gripping his hand, "Yuuri! We should go together some day!"

Yuuri smiles at Minami's enthusiasm. It's good to have someone so innocent and sweet around. It really helps lighten Yuuri's spirits.

"If Yuuri's going with any one to St. Petersburg, it's me," Victor says, pouting, wrapping his arms around Yuuri's waist and snatching his hand away from Minami.

"Oh my god, are you two dating?" Minami squeals, "That's so cute!" Minami pauses for a second, "Wait. He _is_  going to St. Petersburg with you."

Yuuri laughs while Victor tightens his grip on Yuuri and grumbles.

 

* * *

 

It only takes two hours to get from Akita to Vladivostok. They unload their things onto a car Minami has prepared and wave goodbye.

"We're staying a night here," Mila says, "Yuuri needs to learn how to defend himself. If we hadn't been there back in Morioka, imagine what could've happened."

A cold weight sinks in Yuuri's stomach. He knows Mila wants him to learn to shoot, but he's been hoping she'd forget about it. Evidently, he should've known better.

After they've unpacked everything in the motel, Mila takes Yuuri to the woods in a remote, isolated area where they're sure to stay hidden.

She unbuttons her jacket, pulling two guns out if the holsters inside. She tosses one at Yuuri. He scrambles out of the way, and it falls to the floor, firing into the air.

It sounds just like the gun that killed the man in Morioka.

Mila raises an eyebrow at him, "Go on. Pick it up. It's not gonna hurt you. Well, as long as you point it away from yourself."

Yuuri stares at the gun on the floor tentatively.

"Go on," Mila says again.

Yuuri takes a deep breath and picks it up. It's heavy and cold and looks out of place in his trembling hands.

Mila cocks her gun, aiming it at a tree and firing. A branch falls where she shoots. She shows him to load his gun and how to fire it. Then she demands, "Your turn."

It's hard enough to hold the gun in his hands, much less shoot it. Yuuri stares down at the cold black metal in his hands. It lies uselessly in his flat palms, silent and threatening.

"Yuuri?" Mila asks.

Yuuri is only dimly aware of Mila's voice.

Of course he knew he'd have to do this eventually. He knew it was coming. He knows he has to shoot the gun, has to get used to shooting it. But that doesn't make it any less frightening.

Yuuri can suddenly see the man from Morioka in his mind's eye. He sees the explosion of brain matter and blood and skull erupting from the man's head, destroying those glinting green eyes. It plays in slow motion almost, so Yuuri can clearly picture the man's body, falling the floor in a pile of death that is nothing like the slow graceful deaths in an action movie. It is slumping and awkward and sad and so so real.

"Yuuri?" Mila asks again.

Her voice sounds almost like Mari's.

Mari. His mom. His dad. Minako. Phichit. Yuuko. Takeshi. Everyone.

Yuuri's come so far, Yuuri's come too far to back down. He has to keep going. He has to fight.

He shuts his eyes for a second, the images of his family, of the dead man swirling in his mind.

"Yuuri?" Mila says again and it snaps him back to the present.

He opens his eyes, raises the gun, and shoots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi thanks for reading! This chapter is dedicated to all the sweet amazing people who have left a comment especially those of you who have left comments on every chapter. It really means a lot to me that you've taken the time to comment! As always I hope you like this story!


	6. Chapter 6

The thought that perhaps this isn't the best way of dealing with his emotions passes through Yuuri's mind as he wakes up, once again in Victor's bed.

He'd fired that gun yesterday over and over until he finally managed to shoot a tree. He'd returned to the motel with images of blood and brain and strewn limbs dancing in his eyelids, a cold stiffness in his fingers, and the familiar pinch of tears in the back of his eyes.

He'd had a nightmare again that night. The same one he'd had after that day in Morioka. The tears had managed to get as far as his eyelashes before he angrily ran to Victor's room, tangling his cold stiff fingers into silver locks and letting himself fall into Victor's kisses.

Yuuri sits up, now, staring at the sleeping form next to him. Victor looks peaceful asleep. No sign of the cold hard eyes and cruel smirk. No sign of the man whom Yuuri knows is a killer, a criminal.

He steps out of bed carefully, trying not to wake Victor. The last thing he wants is a confrontation, Victor asking why he just barged into his room, pulling Victor to the bed before he could get a word in.

After he's dressed, he heads to the kitchen. Mila sits with Georgi on the worn out couch, flipping lazily through TV channels.

Noticing Yuuri, Mila stands up, "Good. You're awake. We're going to the woods again."

"More guns?" Yuuri asks, trying to keep his voice from quivering.

Mila smiles sympathetically, "No more guns for a while."

Yuuri hates that smile. It makes him feel like a child, like he's weak, like he's someone who needs protection.

"Today I thought we'd just do some simple hand-to-hand," Mila says, swinging on her coat, "You're most likely going to need it in the future. Georgi's coming too. He's good with this stuff."

Yuuri tries not to cower as Georgi's imposing frame leans over him to grab his jacket. He swallows hard and follows them out the door.

* * *

  
Yuuri leans against the tree, watching Mila and Georgi spar. Their fighting styles are so unique, so different from each other that it makes watching them so interesting.

Georgi is tall, imposing. He uses his fists and his arms and relies on solid contact. Mila is fast and lithe. She is all elbows and knees, and she is quick on her feet.

They're fairly evenly matched. Eventually Mila manages to kick Georgi's knees out, and he falls to the ground. Georgi nods at her, before turning to leave.

"He's just getting Victor," Mila says, sitting down next to Yuuri.

Yuuri nods. The two of them are quiet for a moment.

"You're both good at fighting," Yuuri says finally, "Your styles are really different, though."

"Georgi's style is all about brute force and strength," Mila says, pushing her sweaty hair out of her eyes, "He relies on his muscles to the job for him. It's how he was raised."

"Georgi was raised strictly with the purpose of being Victor's bodyguard, you see," Mila continues, "Just like his dad was for Victor's dad, and his mom was for Victor's mom. Georgi wasn't raised a child, he was raised a soldier. Twenty-four-hour boot camp, seven days a week."

Mila smiles, "Me, I'm different. My parents left me on the step of an orphanage as a newly-born. I was beaten, deprecated, and thoroughly miserable at that shitty hellhole until I ran away when I was seven. I lived three years, pickpocketing wallets and stealing food. That's where I learned to fight, to use my mind, to use as many dirty tricks as it takes, to be quick and sneaky, and to attack before you're even noticed."

"One day when I was ten, I made the mistake of swiping a few coins from this silver-haired boy's pockets. The man he was with caught me, and that's how I met Georgi's dad and Victor. I was so scared I thought I was gonna die. Ten meager years on this planet, and I was already gonna die. Victor saved me, though. He was thirteen at the time, and he begged and pleaded until I was allowed to come home with him. He said he felt sorry seeing me, a little scrap of a girl with greasy hair and torn clothes."

Mila laughs, noting Yuuri's downturned and pity-filled eyes.

"It's just the way life is for us, Yuuri. Georgi and I never had a childhood or a warm stable home like you. We were a soldier and a street rat and that's all."

"I'd say Victor had the most normal childhood out of all of us. He played, he had a tutor, he did coloring books and watched TV and all that shit kids do." Mila chuckles, "But tell me, Yuuri, how many normal children do you know whose father was the pakhan of the Bratva?"

Mila turns to face Yuuri fully. "Yuuri, listen," she says, "Victor doesn't mean to be so dense. He's not trying to be insensitive, he really isn't. He just doesn't get it. I've only seen him cry once in all the years I've known him. Well, I mean, cry for something that wasn't clothes or something equally stupid.  It was when he was fourteen after his mom died. He cried and cried and cried when his dad brought home her dead body. He cried and stayed in his room for days. But even then, the situation was different. Victor grew up with the knowledge that his parents would probably die sooner rather than later. Every time they went away, the goodbyes were like they would never see each other again, because chances were that they wouldn't."

Mila smiles a little, tilting her head, "You see, Victor didn't really have any more of a childhood than the rest of us. You need to understand that, and you'll see that he's not a bad guy. He really isn't."

Yuuri nods. "I don't think he's a bad guy," he says.

And it's the truth. Yuuri has been looking at everything in such a black and white way. But he sees it now. He realizes. There is no good Victor and bad Victor. There isn't one Victor who smiles softly and kisses Yuuri gently, and there isn't one Victor whose eyes are hard and cold as he shoots a man's brains out. There is just Victor. Victor, who can use his voice to whisper soft compliments into Yuuri's ears one moment and spit curses at a dead man the next. Victor, whose eyes shine when he listens to dorky songs but also when he wreaks death.

Yuuri has been distinguishing Victor as two halves of one whole. Two persons in one body. But that's not true. Victor isn't a criminal and a good person. He's just a human. And the same goes for Georgi and Mila.

He and Mila sit in silence until Georgi comes back, Victor in tow.

Mila pushes herself off the ground, "Georgi would snap you like a twig, and I wouldn't be able to bring myself to hit you. So we're just gonna have Victor help you out."

She smiles playfully, "Don't be too rough on him." She smacks Victor's arm as she leaves with Georgi.

Victor winks, "I'm only rough when he wants me to be. Right Yuuri?" He gestures to the myriad of bruises on Yuuri's neck.

Yuuri chokes on air, his cheeks flushing hot.

"Good thing you weren't choking last night," Victor says, his voice low.

Yuuri almost trips on his own feet.

"You're going to kill the poor boy, Victor," Mila laughs.

Georgi shakes his head, "Let's just leave them to whatever it is they're doing. I'm not staying any longer to watch them fuck in the bushes."

"Not entirely what I was planning but I'm down for it," Victor says.

Yuuri buries his face in his hands.

"Oh, stop it. Both of you," Mila giggles, "Come on, Georgi, let's go."

And they leave.

"As much as I'd like to fuck you in the bushes," Victor says, "We're actually going to teach you self-defense today."

"I-I wasn't thinking that we'd . . . That we'd . . . I wasn't thinking that!" Yuuri stammers.

"You're so cute when you're embarrassed," Victor laughs. Then he leans in, brushing his lips against Yuuri's ear, "But you're also cute when you're confident and straddling me. Like last night."

Yuuri jumps back, blushing madly, "I thought you said you were gonna teach me self-defense."

Victor laughs, "Right. Here we go."

Yuuri is strong from years of ballet, and he's light on his feet, but he's bad with his fists, and Victor manages to pin him to the ground every time.

Victor smiles, "You're good with your feet and you're quick and graceful. We just need to work on getting some power behind those fists and you're set."

Yuuri pants. His muscles are sore, and he's bruised all over, "Can't we stop for today?"

Victor laughs, "Already? I thought you had good stamina! At least you do in bed."

"Oh, shut up," Yuuri rolls his eyes, "I'm just not used to this. I've never done this before."

"It's okay. It's getting dark anyway," Victor smiles, "Let's go back."

"You two make quite the couple," a sharply-accented voice rings out from behind them.

Yuuri spins around. There's a man standing there, leaning against a tree with a cocky smirk spread across his face. Yuuri hadn't even heard him walk up.

The man is slim, with blond hair and green eyes and long fringy eyelashes. His accent sounds vaguely French, and he carries himself with pride.

Yuuri wonders exactly who he is.

The man smiles at Yuuri. It's a lascivious smile, full of innuendo and lust, and it makes Yuuri uncomfortable.

"You must be Yuuri Katsuki," the man purrs. He looks Yuuri up and down, and Yuuri has the strong urge to wrap his arms around himself.

"You're exactly Victor's type, aren't you?" The man muses, "Victor always did like 'em cute."

"How did you find us?" Victor says, his voice hard.

"Well, don't be rude!" The man exclaims, "Aren't you going to introduce me to Yuuri?"

Victor says nothing, his jaw tightening.

"Well, since Victor appears to have misplaced his manners, I'm Christophe Giacometti," Christophe extends a hand.

Yuuri stares at it before Victor slaps it away.

"Don't touch him," Victor growls, low and threatening, "Now how did you find us?"

"Our dear friend Jean-Jacques Leroy gave me a hint," Chris answers casually, looking not at all afraid of the Russian man in front of him.

"JJ," Victor mutters, "Of course."

Quicker than Yuuri can blink, Victor reaches into his coat and draws out a gun, pointing it at Chris's head.

Yuuri breathes a sigh of relief when he notices that it's not the same gun from Morioka. He finds he can almost stare at it full on.

"What does JJ want with us?" Victor asks.

"What do you think he wants?" Chris asks, his voice sly.

Victor snarls, cocking the gun.

Chris raises his hands, laughing, "I'm not here for a fight. I'm just here to warn you."

"Warn me about what?" Victor asks suspiciously.

Chris's sparkling green eyes harden, "I'd get out of Vladivostok as soon as possible. You know, before things start to blow up. I'd hate for anyone to get hurt."

Yuuri knows it's a threat; he's just not sure what Chris means. Regardless, he feels a sense of doom coil in his stomach and fear creep up his spine.

Victor's eyes widen, "Georgi and Mila."

He grabs Yuuri's hand and breaks into a run, tearing through the woods until they can no longer hear Chris cackling.

Yuuri's heart pounds wildly. He still doesn't know what Chris meant, but he's terrified. He trips over a tree branch, his ankle twisting painfully, but he keeps running. He runs and runs following Victor through the woods.

"It's okay," he tells himself, "We're going to get back and Mila and Georgi will be just fine and we'll leave tonight and everything will be just fine. No more deaths. Not now. Not tonight. Not Georgi and Mila."

They arrive just in time to watch the motel blow up, exploding in a shower of debris.

Yuuri screams.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everythings okay I swear please dont unsubscribe. Also you'll notice I changed Milas age. She's the same age as Yuuri here. I made a playlist for this fic that I write to that I thought I could link here. It's a YouTube playlist since I don't know how many people have spotify. Check it out if only to criticize my music taste lol. [ Here it is ](https://m.youtube.com/?reload=2&rdm=2g5k2ijf#/playlist?list=PLUzDmv-BP34VsOo_8KMJj-_-EnpjfIiS-). Also I may end up changing the tags on this and actually writing a smut scene maybe but we'll see. Again thanks so much for reading and I hope you liked this chapter! Also big thanks to my friend DancingDonut for proofreading this chapter (even tho you never subbed to me you jerk :D)


	7. Chapter 7

Yuuri is positive is heart has stopped beating.  He feels numb, his legs frozen in place, his arms dangling uselessly.  He stares at the raining debris and hopes, prays, _pleads_ , to God that Georgi and Mila are okay.

Victor's back is facing him, and Yuuri can't see his expression.  Yuuri, who has only known Georgi and Mila for maybe a week, is on the verge of tears, so how must Victor be feeling?  What must he be going through?

Yuuri doesn't step forward to find out.  He can't even bring himself to move for fear that one step, one movement in a reality where Georgi and Mila might be dead, will shatter him.  It's almost a foreshadowing for him, an ominous warning of what could, what might, happen to his family, to his friends.  Yuuri's vision blurs with oncoming tears.  A cold weight sinks in his stomach, and his chest closes up, his breath falling out in short heaving gasps.  Through Yuuri's blurry eyes, he can see Victor clench a fist, but he never will learn what Victor might have done or said, because seconds later, Yuuri hears the rev of a car engine and a harried voice calling, "VIctor!  Yuuri!"

Yuuri whirls around to see Mila clambering out of the parked car and racing towards them, Georgi in tow.

They're alive.

Oh, thank God, they're really alive.

Yuuri's eyes meet Mila's, and she's _running_ , and _breathing_ , and she's _alive_.  She's alive, and she's here, and she's okay, and before Yuuri can think otherwise, he launches himself at her, wrapping his arms tightly around her heaving -blessfully, beautifully _heaving_ , because she's _alive_ , she's _alive_ \- shoulders. 

Hugging her grounds him a little.  He can feel her heartbeat, see the glint in her eyes, and everything, _everything_ , from the smallest blink to the littlest breath, reminds him that she's alive and here and okay.  Then he feels her hands come up, almost imperceptibly, and rest on his back, and he can't take it anymore.  He collapses against her, .

"It's okay, Yuuri," she says, her voice hushed and comforting, "We're here.  I'm here."

* * *

Victor doesn't say a word.  He just hugs Mila and Georgi, holding on for a second longer than usual, before ushering everyone into the car.  If he ever was crying, or was going to, you wouldn't be able to tell.  His gaze is steely, his jaw set, and the second they drive off, he's already talking about where they have to go next.

"We'll stop in Khabarovsk," Victor says, "But we can't stay long now that we know Christophe is after us too."

"Christophe?" Mila asks incredulously, "Christophe _Giacometti_?"

"The one and only," Victor says grimly.

"He set off that bomb, I'm assuming?"

Victor nods.

"This is just great," Georgi groans, "Christophe Giacometti _and_ Jean-Jacques Leroy after us."

"It's not just that," Victor say grimly, "They're working together."

"JJ and Chris are working together?" Mila asks, the shock evident in her voice.

Victor nods somberly.  "And," he continues, "They both know who Yuuri is."

Yuuri feels his heart clench.  He hadn't thought about that.  It hadn't even crossed his mind.  If they knew who he was-

"Then, they might be able to find Yuuri's family," Mila says, her voice tight.

"I told you.  I told you bringing him was a bad idea," Georgi says, but the words aren't harsh, nor are they meant to be.  Georgi puts his head in his hands.

"It's okay," Victor says, faintly.  He clears his throat.  "It'll be okay," he says, his voice steadier, stronger, "Once we get to St. Petersburg it'll be okay.  JJ and Chris don't stand a chance once we're back, once we have people backing us up."

"We might be able to stand JJ and Chris," Mila says, "But what about Isabella?"

"Isabella _Yang_?" Georgi asks, "But she's just JJ's wife!"

" _Just_ JJ's wife?" Mila raises a thin eyebrow, "Don't you know anything?  Don't you know who carried out that raid on the Yakuza a while ago?"

"Yeah," Georgi answers, "JJ."

"Don't be stupid, it was _Isabella_ ," Mila says, "JJ may have the title and the muscle, but Isabella's got all the brains and power behind the operation.  JJ's just a placeholder, a puppet.  He may be strong and can sure kick your ass, but she runs the show, and everyone knows it.  She's a genius too.  She graduated college at eighteen.  She already has a PhD.  She could be ruling the world by now if she weren't so damn in love with JJ."

"Mila's right, Georgi," Victor says, "If anyone's going to be stirring up trouble for us, it's Isabella.  We need to get to St. Petersburg, and we need to get there fast."

* * *

Yuuri lies in Victor's bed at their motel in Khabarovsk, his mind spinning.  Victor lies sound asleep next to him, but Yuuri's thoughts won't let him sleep too.

He needs to stop turning to Victor every time he worries about his family.  It won't take the pain away, it won't help anything.  All it's doing is making Yuuri somewhat attached to Victor, even though he knows Victor will tire of him soon, and getting attached to Victor is a very bad idea.

Yuuri thinks of how Victor hadn't shed any tears or fretted over their wellbeing when he'd learned that Georgi and Mila were alive.  Yuuri can guess why.  He remembers what Mila had said.

_"But even then, the situation was different. Victor grew up with the knowledge that his parents would probably die sooner rather than later. Every time they went away, the goodbyes were like they would never see each other again, because chances were that they wouldn't."_

It saddens him to think that one could become so desensitized to the thought of their loved ones dying.  Every time Yuuri thinks of his family dying, he wants to burst into tears.

At the thought of it, the intrusive thoughts of dead Mari, dead Phichit, dead everyone float into Yuuri's mind again, and he feels the now all too familiar pinch of tears in his eyes.  He sits up.

"Yuuri?" comes a groggy voice from next to Yuuri.  Victor sits up, propping himself on his elbows.

Yuuri hurriedly swallows the lump in his throat and wipes his eyes.  He can't cry.  He's made it so far, _so far_.  He's bitten back the tears every time he's thought of his family, and he'd even managed not to cry when he'd thought Georgi and Mila were dead.  He cannot break now.  He _cannot_.  He won't let himself.

"How come you never talk about your family?" Victor asks, leaning back on his pillow.

Yuuri flinches slightly.  Victor doesn't understand, _can't possibly_ understand, and he doesn't mean anything by it, judging by the way he's leaning back contentedly in the bed, a small smile on his lips.

"You never talk about your home life either," Victor adds.

"I was a dancer, back in Hasetsu," Yuuri says, ignoring Victor's first question.

Victor shoots up.  "You were?" he asks excitedly.

Yuuri nods, allowing himself to smile a little.

Victor leaps out of bed, "Show me!"

"What?"

"Show me!" Victor says, already tugging on his pants.

"Now?" Yuuri asks, trying to ascertain whether or not Victor as kidding.

"Yeah!" Victor beams.

"Where?  How?" Yuuri asks incredulously.

"Outside!" Victor exclaims, puling on his shirt, "On the grass behind our room.  No one will see us."

Yuuri bites his lip uncertainly.  He shouldn't.  It'll remind him too much of home.  But he _misses_ dancing.  He misses it so desperately.  He misses the feel of his pointe shoes, the noise they make on Minako's wood studio floor.  He misses leaping through the air, and twirling until he's dizzy.  He misses it so much.

So he nods and smiles, "Okay."

Victor's practically skipping by the time they get outside.

"Okay, here.  I'll put on a song," Victor claps, jumping up and down a little before pressing a button on his phone.  Immediately, the sound of a piano fills the air.  Yuuri recognizes that piano.

Yuuri laughs, "Victor, please tell me you don't want me to dance to 'TIny Dancer'."

Victor clasps his hands together.  "Pleaaaaase?" he asks.

Yuuri rolls his eyes, but straightens into fifth position.

 

_Blue jean baby, L.A lady, seamstress for the band_

_Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man_

_Ballerina, you must've seen her dancing in the sand_

_And now she's in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand_

 

Yuuri has not felt so alive in such a long time.  With every leap, with every arabesque, with every pirouette, he feels a piece of his soul return to his body.  It's not quite so smooth on the lumpy grass, and he doesn't have his shoes, but he feels like he's flying.  He feels like he's on top of the world.

 

_Hold me closer, tiny dancer_

_Count the headlights on the highway_

_Lay me down in sheets of linen_

_You had a busy day today_

 

Yuuri remembers the last time he danced.  He and Phichit had been working on a pas de deux for their upcoming production.  He remembers how much fun he'd had with Phichit, collapsing on the floor and laughing until his sides ached.  He remembers how Mari had rolled her eyes at his enthusiasm but smiled fondly.  He remembers how happy Minako had been when he and Phichit had gotten it absolutely perfect,  He remembers how everyone, his parents, Yuuko, Takeshi, had promised to come see it.

 

_But, oh, how it feels so real_

_Lying here with no one near_

_Only you and you can hear me_

_When I say softly, slowly_

 

It is only when Yuuri comes out of a spin that he realizes he is crying.

Oh.

He's crying.

After all this time, after how far he's come, how long he's held it together, Yuuri is crying.  And now that he's started, he can't stop.  Tears gush out of his eyes, staining his glasses, and pouring down over his cheeks.  They spill down, a torrent of all of Yuuri's bottled up feelings breaking open the flood gates and streaming freely down his face.

He feels ashamed.  Ashamed that he couldn't be strong for his family.

And yet, it feels so good to cry.  With every tear that falls, the weight on Yuuri's heart gets lighter and lighter.  It's such a strange relief to cry, to let loose everything he's been keeping inside, and with the tears come all of the emotions.  Fear, sadness, worry, anxiety, all of it pouring, gushing out of where he's kept it locked away.

Yuuri collapses onto the grass, hugging his knees, and just _cries_.

"Yuuri!" Victor runs over to him, falling to the ground next to him and wrapping his arms around Yuuri's curled-up form.

It's been so long since Yuuri was hugged like this, and it does nothing to stem the flow of tears.  He wants to push Victor away, to regain whatever dignity he has left, but he can't bring himself to.  He falls against Victor's chest, clutching at his shirt and sobbing into his collarbone.

Victor wraps his arms tighter around Yuuri, "It's okay, I got you.  I got you, Yuuri, it's okay."

And so Yuuri lets the tears fall.  He lets them spill until there's nothing he can hear but the sound of Victor's heartbeat and the melody of "Tiny Dancer" slowly dying in the background.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi yall sorry for the wait I had a bit or writers block but here I am with a new chapter! I hope you liked it and please leave a comment if you can! also in warning there will be an actual smut scene now so Ill change the tag on that and everything but yeah just in case that stuffs not your cup of tea ill tell yall which chapter is going to have it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut in this chapter

Victor has developed this yearning, desperate need to take care of Yuuri.

He's never wanted to protect something this much before.

But then there is Yuuri. Beautiful, soft Yuuri with his innocent, cinnamon-colored eyes and long, thick eyelashes and soft, tender smile.

Victor is by no means a soft man. He'd been raised by hardness to be hard. He'd never had room for sentimentality, never been taught a capacity for it.

But Yuuri . . .

Yuuri dances beautifully. "Beautifully" is the best word he can use to describe it, but it's such an understatement.

Yuuri dances like a nymph, prancing through the woods on golden toes. Yuuri dances like a siren, eyes enthralling and seductive. Yuuri dances like a daydream, lovely and too heavenly to touch.

He moves with such grace, his limbs almost like molten gold, his eyes shining amber in the moonlight.

Simply put, he's gorgeous.

Victor is so captivated, he doesn't realize Yuuri is crying until he's collapsed on the grass.

But when he does realize, that yearning, desperate need takes over, and he lunges forward to wrap his arms around Yuuri.

Yuuri sobs, fingers clutching at Victor's shirt, face buried in his chest, and Victor pulls Yuuri closer. He understands now why Mila had felt such a need to protect Yuuri; it's impossible not to want to.

So he rubs Yuuri's back soothingly with one hand and strokes his soft, soft hair with the other.

"It's okay," he whispers, his mouth pressed against Yuuri's temple, "I'm here."

* * *

 

Yuuri lets Victor pick him bridal style and bring him inside. Victor sets him down gently on the bed and comes to sit next to him, arms still wrapped around his form.

"Yuuri, what's wrong?" Victor asks nervously.

Yuuri opens his mouth to say he doesn't want to talk about it but instead, the words, "I miss my family," spill out.

Yuuri turns away. Surely, Victor thinks he's weak and stupid now. Weak and stupid and unable to be strong, not even for his family.

"You must think I'm pretty weak," Yuuri says, laughing dryly.

"Of course not, Yuuri," Victor says, and Yuuri thinks he actually sounds honest. "No one could ever think you are weak."

"I . . . " Yuuri falters, "I promised myself I wasn't going to cry. I promise myself I was going to be strong for them."

"Oh, Yuuri," Victor says, pulling away from Yuuri a little to look him in the eyes, "Do you know how many people would've gone crazy by now just by being in the situation you're in? Do you know how many people wouldn't be strong enough to make it through this? Yuuri, you are so so strong and so so so brave. You volunteered to do this, Yuuri. You volunteered to come instead of staying safe at home because you knew it was the best option to protect your family. You're not weak, Yuuri. No one could ever call you weak.

Yuuri starts sobbing again, curling his fingers around Victor's shoulders, and burying his nose in Victor's collarbone. Victor cradles Yuuri's head with one hand, wrapping the other around Yuuri's waist.

"Do you . . . " Victor starts hesitantly after a minute, "Do you want to talk about them? Your family?"

Yuuri makes a strangled sob noise.

"You don't have to!" Victor exclaims quickly, "That was a bad idea. I just thought it could help to talk about it but- forget it. That was a bad idea. I'm sorry for bringing it up, and-"

"There's my mom and dad," Yuuri says before Victor can finish, "My mom's the nicest sweetheart you'll ever meet. She's the first one to look for the good in people, and she'll forgive your flaws as long as she sees that good."

"My dad's pretty domestic. He was never one of those dads who would spend eight hours a day working and barely come home to his family. He loved us and wanted to be around at all times."

Yuuri takes a shaky breath.

"Then there's Mari, my sister," he continues, "She acts kind of distant, but she's protective. She won't let anyone hurt the people she loves, and there'll be hell to pay if anyone does."

"There's-" Yuuri breaks off into a sob before he can continue  
Victor rubs circles on Yuuri's back, stroking his fingers through Yuuri's hair, comfortingly.

"It's okay, you don't have to keep going," Victor says softly.

"No," Yuuri says, "No, I want to."

"There's . . . There's Phichit. He's my best friend. We danced- we dance together. Phichit is the kind of best friend who can make you laugh until your sides ache. He's fun and vivacious and he's the one responsible for dragging me to parties and getting me drunk. He's addicted to Instagram too, and he has a lot of followers. In Phichit's opinion, no moment is perfect without a selfie."

Yuuri lets out a laugh which quickly breaks into sob. Victor tightens his grip on Yuuri.

"They sound lovely," Victor says soothingly, "They really do."

"There's more," Yuuri continues, "There's Yuuko and Takeshi and their triplets. Yuuko and Takeshi have been my friends since we were so little. I've grown up with them, and they're still with me after all this time."

"I miss them," Yuuri whispers into Victor's shirt, "I miss them all. I miss them so much." Yuuri lets out a broken sob, "God, I miss them. I miss my family. _I miss my family_."

Yuuri clenches Victor's shirt in his fists and cries.

"You'll be with them again, Yuuri," Victor says, "I promise. I promise."

"Until . . . " Victor starts hesitantly, "Until then, Georgi and Mila and I, we'll try to be like family to you too. Until you can get back to your real one."

Yuuri feels touched. It reminds him of how much he genuinely cares about Mila and Victor and Georgi. And it warms him inside to think that maybe they care about him too.

He wraps his arms around Victor's neck, "Thank you."

* * *

  
The next day they're on the road again traveling to Tynda.

Georgi is driving, slow and steady and the exact opposite of Victor's reckless speeding. Mila sits in the passenger seat with her ear buds in, bobbing her head to her music. Victor sits in the back with Yuuri, his head propped on his chin, staring out the window.

The drive is peaceful and quiet, almost like a normal road trip, and Yuuri tips his head back against the seat and lets himself doze off.

His peace is short-lived because not thirty seconds later, Victor is kicking the back of Georgi's seat.

"Georgi! Stop the car!" Victor shrieks.

Georgi slams on the brakes, and the car skids to a halt

"What? What is it?" Georgi says, already pulling a gun out of a holster in his jacket. Mila rips her ear buds out, reaching into her purse for a knife.

Victor slams the car door open, and sprints out. Georgi and Mila quickly follow.

Yuuri feels a streak of terror run down his spine. What's going on? Is it JJ? Is it Chris? Is it someone somehow infinitely worse? Yuuri doesn't want to get on their way so he stays in the car, peering out the window. He watches Victor sprint madly, dashing over rocks until he reaches . . . A dog.

A dog. A brown poodle to be exact. She's dirty and doesn't have a collar and is a little too skinny for Yuuri to believe she has an owner.

Georgi drops his gun, an annoyed look on his face. Mila lets out an exasperated sigh, "Really, Victor?"

Victor wraps his arms around the dog, which is happily wagging its tail, "I want to keep her."

"We can't keep a dog," Georgi says.

"Why not?" Victor pouts, hugging the dog closer.

"Because," Georgi sputters, "Because we just can't!"

"But Georgi!" Victor whines, "I'll take care of her! I promise!"

Georgi sighs, rubbing his temples, "Mila, back me up here."

"Hmmm," Mila taps her chin, "What do you think, Yuuri?"

Victor looks at him with pleading, desperate eyes, "Please, Yuuri?"

Yuuri laughs a little, and he's reminded again of how much like a normal person Victor is.

"I mean, I don't see the problem with it," Yuuri answers.

"Yes!" Victor exclaims, "Thank you, Yuuri!" He picks up the dog and starts back towards the car

"Victor," Mila says sternly, "If you want to keep the dog, something else has to go."

Victor stops walking and turns around, "Like what?"

"Like some of those designer suits you packed for no apparent reason," Mila answers.

Victor's eyes fill with tears, "No! Not my clothes!"

"It's either your clothes or the dog," Mila says.

Victor sniffles a little. "The clothes," he answers quietly.

"Good!" Mila says, popping open the trunk of their car. She opens a suitcase and pulls out several articles of clothing, dumping them on the ground.

Victor starts crying.

"Victor, calm down! We'll buy you more when we get back to St. Petersburg! You act like you'll never have any clothes again!" Mila says as she scoops the clothes up in her arms and drops them on a rock a few feet away.

"Wait!" Victor calls.

Mila turns toward him, her eyebrow cocked.

"At least not the Armani," Victor says in a small voice.

Mila sighs, "Okay." She tosses one of the suits back at Victor.

Georgi hands Mila a bottle of whiskey, which she dumps over the clothes. She then flicks in her lighter and drops it on the heap. Flames immediately burst up.

Yuuri tries not to laugh as Victor sobs into the dog's fur.

* * *

  
"Why do Mila and Georgi call you Vitya?" Yuuri asks.

Victor stops from where he's kissing down Yuuri's neck, "What?"

"Sorry," Yuuri flushes painfully, "I was just curious."

"It's kind of just a nickname or a term of endearment," Victor says, kissing under Yuuri's jawline. Yuuri's eyes flutter closed, his head tipping back.

"It's like if I called you Yura," Victor says, stopping at a point on Yuuri's collarbone to suck.

Yuuri lets out a gasp, "Yura. I like that."

Victor leans up and kisses Yuuri hard, tipping him back on the bed. Yuuri groans into Victor's mouth, rolling his hips up to meet Victor's half-hard bulge.

Victor moans in return, fingers tearing at the buttons on Yuuri's shirt, kissing down Yuuri's torso as he does so. Victor tears off Yuuri's shirt and takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking on it.

Yuuri arches off the bed, a loud moan escaping his lips. His hips jerk up against Victor.

Victor tweaks the other nipple with his finger before stroking Yuuri's erection through his boxers. Yuuri cries out desperately. Victor sheds his own shirt and pants before ripping off Yuuri's boxers.

Even after all the times they've done this Yuuri still feels himself blush at Victor's eyes on his naked form, and he resists the urge to curl up in embarrassment.

"God, Yuuri," Victor says, "I'd almost forgotten how gorgeous you are."

He drops to his knees, kissing the skin on Yuuri's inner thighs. "Your skin is so soft," he says, groaning as he bites into a spot close to Yuuri's crotch.

Yuuri moans, writhing underneath Victor as he sucks and bites marks on Yuuri's pale thighs.

Victor flips him over so that he's on his knees, his ass in the air.

"God, I've missed this," Victor says digging his fingers into Yuuri's ass, sucking marks on it. Yuuri moans, thrusting his ass against Victor's face.

"Please, Victor," Yuuri sobs, clutching at the sheets. He hears the bottle of lube open and then a cold finger is pressing at his entrance. He jerks his hips back, and Victor presses slowly into his hole. He lets out a moan as Victor adds a second one.

Victor scissors this fingers, curling them and fucking Yuuri open. Yuuri keens when Victor's fingers hit his prostate, arching desperately and wiggling his hips against his fingers.

"Victor, please, more," Yuuri pleads.

Victor smirks and pulls his fingers out of Yuuri's hole to lube up his own cock.

"You ready?" He asks.

Yuuri scrabbles at Victor's back, trying to pull him closer, "Yes, Victor please. Put it in already."

Victor moans, slowly sinking in.

"Fuck, yes!" Yuuri shouts as Victor begins to thrust into him. He digs his fingernails into Victor's shoulders, throwing his head back as Victor thrusts a direct hit on his prostate.

"Yes, fuck yes, please more," Yuuri whimpers, "More, Victor, please." Victor thrusts particularly hard and Yuuri screams, "Vitya!"

Almost immediately, Victor stops moving. Yuuri feels his cheeks heat up. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry I-" he starts.

"Say it again," Victor says, his voice a low growl.

"What?" Yuuri asks.

"Say it again," Victor repeats.

"V-Vitya," Yuuri says tentatively. He is immediately rewarded with an exceptionally rough thrust.

Yuuri moans, "Vitya." Another hard thrust.

"God, I love it when you say that," Victor moans in Yuuri's ear, as he starts thrusting faster. "It sounds gorgeous coming from you."

Yuuri lets out a shout as Victor lifts his hips off the bed slightly and starts fucking him in earnest.

"Keep saying it, Yuuri. Say it again," Victor moans desperately.

"Vitya!" Yuuri cries. He can feel the pressure of his orgasm building, "God, Vitya, yes!"

Victor starts pumping his cock, and he comes, hard and fast all over his stomach, Victor coming soon after.

Yuuri pants, exhausted and leans his head back against the headboard before getting up to take a shower.

"Wait," Victor calls.

Yuuri turns towards him, already embarrassed at being stark naked and covered in cum.

"I like it when you call me Vitya," Victor says, a small smile on his lips.

Yuuri gets in the shower before he can blush himself to death

* * *

  
At this point, Mila is like his sister and Georgi is kind of like a grumpy uncle, but what is Victor to him?

He's not a father figure or like a brother, and that would be weird considering the nature of their relationship. Yuuri doesn't think he likes him romantically, but it feels odd to call Victor just a friend.

He's decided to ask Mila.

"What do you call someone who holds you when you cry and lets you talk about your feelings but also has sex with you?" Yuuri asks as Mila stands in the kitchen, drinking a glass of orange juice.

Mila bursts out laughing. Yuuri stares at her blankly.

"Oh, you're serious," she giggles, "Yuuri, that's called a boyfriend. Her expression turns serious, "You don't have one right now, do you? Because I'm afraid we'll have to kill him."

Now it's Yuuri's turn to burst out laughing, and Mila stares at him blankly. Yuuri's laughter trails off. Oh.

"I don't have a boyfriend, Mila," Yuuri answers, "I'm talking about Victor."

"Victor who?" Mila asks.

"Victor Nikiforov?" Yuuri says, confused.

" _Our_ Victor Nikiforov? With silver hair and blue eyes? That one?" Mila asks incredulously.

"What other Victor Nikiforov is there?" Yuuri asks.

"Let me get this straight," Mila says, "Victor Nikiforov, our Victor Nikiforov, holds you when you cry and lets you talk about your feelings?"

"Yes?" Yuuri answers, still very confused.

"Huh," Mila says to herself, "I need to go talk to him. Don't move, Yuuri, I'll be right back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Status: KatsuDONE WITH FAKE PEOPLE
> 
> I'm so sorry for how bad the smut scene was I'm gonna go hide now. I'm going on spring break so I wanted to post a chapter now cuz ill be busy this week. Also I know Mila said earlier she's never seen Victor cry but she means she's never seen him cry for like a real reason. I went back and edited that in. Thanks so much for reading and please come talk to me at my tumblr. I'm so lonely.


	9. Chapter 9

Shortly after Mila leaves, Georgi storms out of his room, grabbing Yuuri's arm.

"Come on. We're going out," he says.

"Mila told me to wait here," Yuuri protests.

"You're not going to want to be around to hear what's about to go down," Georgi answers.

Before Yuuri can ask what that means, Georgi continues, "Plus, you're still no good with guns. You're still a hindrance to us."  
  
Yuuri ignores the bluntness of Georgi's comment in favor of the mention of guns.

"No," he says, shaking his head, his face pale, "No, I can't. I-I can't do it. I just can't."

Georgi turns and looks directly at Yuuri.

"Come on, Yuuri," he says, before turning and walking toward the back door. And there's a firm directness in his eyes that makes Yuuri follow.

The walk through the woods is quiet and awkward and all Yuuri can focus on are those two damn guns dangling from Georgi's fists.

When they reach a small clearing, Georgi turns and presses a gun into Yuuri's palm. Its metal is just as icy cold as he remembers. Yuuri stares down at it.

"I can't do this," he whispers.

"It's just a gun," Georgi says, "You're not shooting anyone."

"Easy for you to say!" Yuuri exclaims. He plops down on the ground, setting the gun down next to him.

Georgi stares at him for a second before sitting down too.

"I assume Mila told you about me?" He asks.

"Yeah."

Georgi settles against a bush, "The first time I shot a real gun, I was seven years old."

Yuuri looks at him, shocked.

"I'd had plenty of practice with fake guns before that, just to make sure I didn't shoot my leg off or something. I'd been learning to shoot since I was five."

"My parents knew only one thing: absolute servitude to Katerina and Alexei Nikiforov. I was expected to know the same thing. Ever since I can remember, my parents only had one thing they wanted to drill into my head. Not honesty, morality, or compassion, but that my life belonged completely to Victor Nikiforov."

"I was to do whatever he wanted, they said, no matter what it was. If he wanted me to jump, I would jump. If he wanted me to sit, I would sit. If he wanted me to get a gun and blow my own brains out, I'd get a gun and blow my own brains out."

Yuuri's eyes widen, "He didn't ask you to-"

"No," Georgi chuckles, "But I was terrified for our first meeting."

"I was twelve and my knees were shaking, goose bumps riddled my arms. But my parents were there, Victor would be there, and I had to make a good impression."

"When I got there, I didn't even stop to look up at him, this boy who would own my life. I just instantly got down on one knee and prepared for the worst."

"What did Victor do then?" Yuuri asks.

"He took me by the hand and told me to get up. And I got up and saw a boy my own age smiling at me like a friend, and I was so perplexed. Wasn't he supposed to be harsh? Wasn't he supposed to be demanding? Wasn't he supposed to order me around?"

"I asked him this, and he said he didn't have anything he needed to boss me around for. He said he was just glad to have someone his age around. He asked if we could be friends. I'd never had a friend before. I'd never even been around another kid before."

"Victor became the brother I never had. He was my best friend, my closest confidant. He taught me how to talk to girls, he taught me how to spike up my hair like all the guys were doing, he taught me everything I needed to know about life. I could finally open up to someone, share my feelings and emotions. I cared for Victor like I'd never cared about anyone before."

"I guess my parents were right, I would end up doing anything for Victor. We may not be blood related, but he's my brother. He really is. The first man I killed, I killed for Victor."

Yuuri turns sharply, "What?"

"I was thirteen," Georgi continues, "And Victor's father, the pakhan at the time, was meeting with one of his subordinates."

"There was a mutiny of sorts. I don't remember the specifics; it was a long time ago. All I remember is I was putting away some books Victor and I were reading when I heard a commotion upstairs and ran to see what was happening. From where I stood, I could just barely make out my brother, with a knife against his neck."

"The gun against my hip felt heavier than ever as I watched. That was my brother out there. Those were my brother's frightened eyes, my brother's frightened sobs. He was only thirteen. We were only thirteen."

"The only thing that seemed to make sense was raising the gun, putting my finger in the trigger. And I stood there, the gun shaking in my quivering hands, and I saw the knife press slightly into his skin and I saw beads of blood well up and before I knew what I was doing, I squeezed the trigger."

"The man fell, right before me, a bloody hole in his head. He fell and those with him fell soon too. It was the first time I killed for Victor and it wouldn't be the last."

"So what," Yuuri says, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice, "You kill someone once and all of a sudden, everything's okay? That's the moral of the story? You're telling me to shoot someone, and it'll all be okay?"

"I'm telling you that sometimes," Georgi answers calmly, "Your loved ones come before your morality."

"So just like that, you were fine? No remorse or anything because you'd saved someone's life?" Yuuri asks.

"Oh God, no," Georgi snorts, "That man's face haunted my dreams for months on end. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his wide, startled eyes, the hole in his forehead, the family he may or may not have left behind."

"But you know what the only thing that could bring me any semblance of comfort was?" Georgi continues, "It was my brother's smile. It was knowing that every single time he smiled, every time he laughed, every time he was happy and dizzy with joy, that moment was possible because of me."

"Morality is good, Yuuri. It's part of why Victor likes you so much. But in a life like ours, in a life that is yours for now, you cannot stand to keep morality too close."

"Your family comes first. Family holds this whole thing together. We're loyal to each other and it makes us strong."

Georgi turns to Yuuri and his eyes are strong and deep, "Yuuri, tell me. If you saw the most important person to you standing there, about to die, what would you do?"

Yuuri imagines it. He imagines Phichit's brown eyes filled with tears, heavy sobs wracking his body, pleading to be let go of. And he imagines that in his hands he holds a gun.

Perhaps it's the heat of the moment, but in that moment Yuuri can see himself pulling the trigger.

He stares down at the gun on the grass next to him, "Teach me."

They practice and practice and practice. By the time they're done, Yuuri can consistently hit a large target, and the gun, warned by his hands, no longer feels quite so cold.

* * *

 

When Victor was nine years old, a dying man pushed a baby into his arms.

He'd just been playing around outside in his parents' monstrously large front lawn, when he'd heard voices shouting.

"I have to get in! Let me in! Let me-"

The voice was cut off by a sharp thud and a groan.

Victor's young mind ran wild with curiosity, and he ran to the front gates to see what was going on.

He arrived just in time to see the guards beating down an old man with a gunshot wound.

Victor approached curiously. One of the guards noticed him, opening his mouth to say something. Before he could, the old man grabbed Victor's foot with one bloody hand. Victor shrieked, jumping backwards.

One of the guards dealt a rather brutal hit with the back of his gun to the back of the old man's knee, causing the old man to roll over.

His jacket fell open, and cradled in a sling was the tiniest baby Victor had ever seen, a newborn.

One of the guards rolled his eyes and raised his gun high above the baby's small head. Just as he was about to bring the gun down, the old man, in one last burst of strength, pushed the baby into Victor's arms.

The old man lay panting, his chest rising and falling slowly, before he stilled. Victor may have been only nine, but he knew what death looked like. He stepped backwards, cradling the baby against his chest.

"Sir-" one of the guards began, reaching out for the baby.

Victor flinched away, holding the baby closer.

The guard started to say something else, but Victor wasn't listening. He was looking down at the baby, who had just blinked open his eyes. They were blue. They almost looked like Victor's did in the mirror.

The guard reached out for the baby again, and Victor turned and ran, stumbling over tree roots as fast as his short legs could carry him. He knew he'd get away, not because he thought he could outrun the guards, but because the guards would never dare risk laying a hand on the son of their pakhan.

He ran and he brought the baby into the house. He knew better than to go looking for his parents, who might be working, so he ran to the kitchen to ask the cook what babies eat.

His mother, Mrs. Popovich in tow, found him an hour later, sitting on a couch, covered in grass stains and feeding the baby a bottle of milk with a smile on his face.

"Where did he come from?" His mother asked.

"The dead man outside gave him to me," Victor answered, still smiling at the baby.

His mother turned to Mrs. Popovich, an eyebrow raised.

"Plisetsky," Mrs. Popovich whispered.

His mother nodded, her expression grim.

"You can't keep him," she said.

Victor begged and pleaded to keep the baby, crying and threatening and banging on the floor with his fists until she relented.

"You'll have to take care of him," His mother said, "There's not much your father and I can do. We're very busy."

"I know," Victor answered.

His mother nodded and turned to leave. She stopped for a second, looking back over her shoulder.

"What will you name him?"

Victor looked down into the baby's blue eyes, blue eyes just like his, and answered, "Yuri."

"Yuri," His mother smiled, "That's a fine name."

It's this memory that comes to Victor's mind for some reason as Mila storms into his room, fists clenched and eyes ablaze.

"What are you doing to Yuuri?" She asks, voice stern.

"Are you sure would want to know the specifics?" Victor smirks, laughing.

"You know what I mean," Mila says harshly, "The cuddling, the comforting, all that. So answer my question. What are you trying to do to him?"

Victor is silent.

Mila sits down on the bed next to him, "Victor, I love you like a brother. I'd die for you. You know that. But if your intentions towards Yuuri are anything to be suspicious of, I want to know."

"I don't know," Victor says finally.

"You don't know what?"

"I don't know why I'm doing this," Victor says, "I just . . . I just don't like seeing him cry is all."

"You don't like seeing him cry," Mila says.

As easy as it would be to call Yuuri just another great fuck, Victor knows that's not true. He cares for Yuuri. He cares for Yuuri the way he cared for that scrappy redhead pickpocket, afraid to trust and afraid to love, or the way he cared for that reserved awkward soldier who knew nothing of emotion or self-confidence, or the way he cared for that little tiny baby with the blue blue eyes.

Yuuri is family. Yuuri is as much family as Mila or Georgi or Yuri is, and Victor needs to protect him. Victor sees the way Yuuri cries over his family, and he knows that he will do what it takes to make sure Yuuri sees them again.

He has to fight this fight. He has to take JJ and Chris down, by any means necessary. Yuuri is his family, and no one messes with Victor's family.

* * *

 

In a large log mansion up in the woods of Montreal, Jean-Jacques Leroy sits on a chair in his bedroom, trying to ignore his throbbing headache.

"Here," comes a gentle voice. A slender, pale hand offers an aspirin.

JJ smiles gratefully, "Thanks, Izzy."

Isabella Yang, cradling a baby in her arms, smiles back at her husband, sitting down next to him.

"Is this about the whole Nikiforov deal?" She asks, patting his hand lovingly.

JJ chuckles dryly, "Those Russians are a piece of work."

Isabella laughs a little too, tipping her head into his shoulder, "Well, me and Elizabeth, we're here for you."

Isabella offers the baby in her arms. JJ takes her and looks down at her small face.

"She has your eyes," he says, finding it hard to keep the emotion out of his voice.

"She has your smile," Isabella squeezes his hand.

The baby coos up at her parents, giggling a little. JJ presses a kiss to her tiny forehead.

"I love you, darling," he whispers to Elizabeth. He turns to his wife, "I love you too, chéri."

Isabella settles next to him and strokes the baby's head. JJ looks at his beautiful, loving, amazing wife and at his precious little daughter, and he thinks, this is true happiness.

"I'll do anything for you two," he says, kissing Isabella's forehead, and he means it. Everything he does, he does for them. Everything he decides to do is for their futures.

Because they're his family, and no one messes with his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Status: Eating toothpaste
> 
> Hey yo I hope you liked this chapter! It's not overwhelmingly important to the plot, but the next chapter will be full of plot and Victuuri so fear not, my readers. Anyways leave a comment if you can and come chat at my tumblr!


	10. Chapter 10

It is snowing in Arkhangelsk when they arrive.

When they get to the motel, the poodle they picked up, whom Victor has affectionately named Makkachin, immediately leaps out of the car to play in the snow. Victor laughs as he watches her roll around.

"She's adorable," Yuuri says, laughing softly in that way Victor loves.

Victor turns to Yuuri and is struck, not for the first time, by how lovely Yuuri is. His pale cheeks are red from the cold, his long fluttering eyelashes are dusted in snowflakes, and his hair is disheveled in the cutest way. He looks like a little snow fairy. Yuuri smiles at Victor, and Victor's stomach does something funny. He must be hungry, he rationalizes.

"This place has a Keurig if anyone wants coffee!" Mila calls from inside.

Yuuri brightens. "I want some, please!" He calls, darting inside.

Victor smiles fondly after him. He turns to scoop Makkachin up from the snow, "Come on, Makka. Let's go."

* * *

  
"When did you buy Pringles?"

"Oh, I bought those a while ago. Shoot, I forgot about them. They're probably all crumbled by now."

"Who cares? I'll take them."

"Ew, why'd you get salt and vinegar chips?"

"Fuck you, salt and vinegar is the best."

"You wish."

Victor leans against the wall, chuckling as he watches Mila and Yuuri sort out all their snacks. Victor loves it when Yuuri laughs. He scrunches up his nose in the most adorable way and occasionally lets out a cute little snort. Victor loves Yuuri's smile too. It's wide and affectionate and genuine, and Victor could just watch Yuuri smile all day.

"It could work, you know," Georgi says, coming up from behind Victor.

"What could work?" Victor asks, not taking his eyes off Yuuri.

"You and Yuuri," Georgi answers.

Victor tenses. "I don't know what you mean," he answers stiffly, though he understands exactly what Georgi is inferring.

"You love him," Georgi answers simply, "I know the look of love when I see it. It was a look I wore once too before I had my heart torn out and smashed."

Victor rolls his eyes. Georgi can be so dramatic. "I don't love Yuuri. And even if I did, you know why it wouldn't work."

"Anya and I worked out alright," Georgi answers.

"She dumped you!" Victor responds.

"Yes, unfortunately. But it had nothing to do with our separate lifestyles. She loved me-"

Victor cuts him off with a snort.

"She loved me," Georgi continues, "She just loved that hockey player better."

Victor is silent.

"We never had one conflict about what I did, about who I was," Georgi says, "She understood and she loved me despite who I was. She loved me through it all."

Victor swallows, "I don't love Yuuri Katsuki."

"Whatever you say," Georgi says lightly.

* * *

  
Victor is sharing a bed with Yuuri. Mila has taken the other bed and Georgi is on the couch. Yuuri is already fast asleep, but Victor lies awake, staring at the ceiling, Georgi's words running through his head.

He does not love Yuuri Katsuki.

He does not love Yuuri Katsuki.

Yuuri Katsuki is kind and beautiful, and any sane person would want to protect him. His sense of needing to protect Yuuri is common instinct. It is not love. It is not love.

Victor has shut his eyes and resolved never to think about this again, when Yuuri moves next to him. Victor's eyes pop open, and he peers over Yuuri's shoulder to look at his face.

Yuuri's eyebrows are furrowed, his face scrunched up. He's breathing hard and shifting restlessly. A nightmare, Victor figures. Yuuri groans desperately, and his shifting escalates to thrashing. Panic rises in Victor's chest. It must be a bad nightmare because Yuuri appears to be in so much pain, it's actually making Victor's chest hurt.

Unable to take it any second longer, he reaches over and shakes Yuuri.

"Yuuri, Yuuri!" He whispers frantically, "Yuuri, wake up!"

Yuuri shoots up with a startled shout.

"Are you okay?" Victor asks, "You looked like you were having a nightmare."

Yuuri's eyes are wide and panicked, and sweat beads on his hairline. He takes a few deep breaths and then lunges forward to wrap his arms around Victor's waist. Victor hugs Yuuri back, softly stroking his back and running his fingers through Yuuri's hair. Yuuri's shoulders shake, and Victor realizes that Yuuri is crying.

"Is everything okay?" Victor asks, unsure of what else to ask.

"It's fine," Yuuri pulls back and wipes his nose, "Just a nightmare I've been getting recently."

"Do you want to tell me what it's about?" Victor asks.

Yuuri's eyes well up again, and Victor panics.

"I mean, you don't have to! I- Sorry for bringing it up! We can just go back to bed if you want!"

"No, it's okay," Yuuri sniffles, "It's just that whole ordeal in Morioka kinda messed me up. That man's death was sort of . . . Sort of graphic. I just get dreams about it every now and then."

Oh. The man from Morioka. The man who had tried to kidnap Yuuri. The man Victor had killed.

That meant that all Yuuri's nightmares were Victor's fault. Victor caused this. The thought makes Victor feel sick. He immediately pulls Yuuri to him again, hugging him tightly.

"Um, Victor?" Yuuri asks, his voice muffled in Victor's shirt.

"It's my fault," Victor says, "It's my fault you get nightmares. If I hadn't shot that man . . . "

"No, Victor. It wasn't your fault. You did what you had to do," Yuuri responds, "None of this is your fault, okay? Don't blame yourself! Please! I'd hate it if you did."

Victor tries to smile for Yuuri's benefit, but his stomach is still roiling.

"Go to sleep, Yuuri," Victor says, kissing Yuuri's temple, before setting Yuuri down on his pillow gently.

"Only if you promise you won't blame yourself," Yuuri answers.

"I promise," Victor lies.

Yuuri looks at him suspiciously, "Are you sure?"

Victor nods and tries to smile convincingly.

Yuuri doesn't look sure, but eventually his sleepiness wears him out and his eyes flutter closed, and just like that, he's asleep.

Victor lies back, trying to stop the churning guilt in his stomach. This feeling is foreign to him. Victor doesn't feel guilty. Victor never feels guilty. Victor has seen children bawl as Victor splatters their father's blood all over them. Victor has seen parents kill themselves after Victor dumps their child's dead boy on their doorstep. Victor has seen countless men go mad, countless wives crying for husbands they will never see again, countless children forced into foster care. Victor has the blood of hundreds on his hands, and not once has he felt guilty.

And yet he feels guilty for shooting one man because it brought Yuuri nightmares.

It is with this thought that the realization hits him.

He does love Yuuri Katsuki.

He loves Yuuri. He loves Yuuri so much. He loves him in the way that makes him want to spend all his life with Yuuri, the way that makes him want to kiss the tears away from Yuuri's face and protect him and never ever let anyone touch him.

Yuuri is beautiful, inside and out. He is pure and good and kind and everything that Victor is not. Yuuri would never love someone like Victor. And he could never be with anyone like Victor. The only way Yuuri could truly be happy is with his family back in Japan. Victor could buy Yuuri the world, but Yuuri wouldn't be happy because this lifestyle isn't made for someone like Yuuri, with his soft heart and innocent eyes.

Love doesn't suit Victor's life. He is pakhan, he has responsibility. He's seen what the death of his mother did to his father, he's seen how love ruins proud men and turns them into empty shells. He will not let that happen to him.

They have to get St. Petersburg. The sooner they get to St. Petersburg, the sooner Victor can kill those sons of bitches, JJ and Chris, and the sooner Yuuri can get back home to his family.

They will leave for St. Petersburg in the morning, Victor resolves, and they will not stop driving until they get there.

* * *

  
When Yuri Plisetsky was younger, no one would've guessed that Yuri wasn't Victor's blood brother. They had the same bright blue eyes and the same dainty features and graceful figures.

When Yuri Plisetsky was younger, no one gave him any reason to doubt, despite his surname, that he was a Nikiforov, through and through.

When Yuri was nine, his adoptive father was meeting with the Triads from China, and Yuri, being a curious young boy, had wandered to his father's office to see what the foreign men looked like.

"Hey, you little punk. You're not supposed to be in here!"

One of the Triad men had noticed Yuri, but before Yuri could duck away, he'd grabbed Yuri by the collar and roughly thrown him against the steps. Before Yuri could pick himself up and dust himself off, the man was on him again. He'd lifted Yuri up and stared him hard in the eyes with a cold glare. Yuri was bracing himself for a punch when the man's eyes softened. They softened into something like-

Fear.

Before the man or Yuri could do anything else, Victor had rushed in.

"Let go of my brother!" He shouted. He ran forward to shove the man off, but he didn't need to. The man set Yuri gently down on the steps, his eyes still wide with fear.

"Why do you call him your brother?" The man asked, "Don't you know what he is?"

Not who. What.

"What are you talking about?" Victor said, grabbing Yuri and pulling him towards himself.

"He may be a child, but I'd recognise those eyes anywhere," the man answered, "They're green as glass. Only one other man had eyes like that. That boy of yours is the kin of a monster. That boy of yours is a Plisetsky."

The kin of a monster. A monster.

The man had been quickly dismissed (from this life), and the Triads' deal with the Bratva had severely suffered as well. Victor assured Yuri that he was no monster, that he was family and he always would be. Yuri pretended like the man's words hadn't affected him. He pretended like he was alright.

But that night Yuri had taken a long look at himself in the mirror and realized that his eyes were, in fact, green. They were no longer the same icy blue as Victor's or his parents'. They were pure green. The green of a monster.

It was only after that incident that Yuri started to notice little things about his every day life. He noticed how the maids refused to look him in the eye, how his father's colleagues flinched when he came near, how the cook kept his eyes downcast when serving Yuri his dinner.

As he grew older, he began to look less and less like his brother. His face narrowed, his eyes became sharp, his figure became more bony and skeletal, he looked thinner, meaner.

More like a monster.

He hated it at first. Hated the way people cowered when they saw him, hated how distant they'd become when they learned his name. He wanted to be a part of the family. He wanted to be a Nikiforov so badly. He considered asking his adoptive parents to introduce him as Yuri Nikiforov.

But then he changed his mind. He changed his mind because he learned to like the fear and the power it gave him. Yuri was short and skinny and young, and no one took him seriously. He was only eighteen and (as much as he himself hated to admit it), he was a child. Victor had promised him title of pakhan after him, but aside that, Yuri had no authority and deserved no respect. People giggled at him when they saw him next to his tall, imposing, intimidating brother.

That is, until he fixed them with the fiercest glare possible, and they shrank back in terror.

It seemed no man alive hadn't heard about his grandfather. All Yuri knew about him, though, was his name. Nikolai Plisetsky. Aside from that, his parents had forbidden anyone in the household to tell him more, and when Victor learned the truth, he refused to divulge it.

Victor was the only one who treated him normally. Georgi and Mila did too, but Georgi wasn't privy to this kind of information, and Mila grew up on the streets, so they had no clue who Nikolai was. At any time, when Yuri was feeling lonely, he could rely on Victor to cheer him up.

Not that he'd ever admit that.

But Victor was gone. He'd been gone for almost two months now. Yakov was furious, running around trying to do Victor's job for him and covering up as best he could Victor's absence.

But patience was waning, and suspicions were rising. Something had to change and fast. Victor had to come home.

"Yuri," Yakov knocks on the door of his bedroom, rattling Yuri from his thoughts.

"I'm busy!" Yuri shouts, "And I'm doing something with Otabek later!"

"Otabek will have to wait," Yakov answers, "Victor is home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's excited for the YOI movie?!?!?!? I know I am! Sorry for the delay. I've had so much homework these past few weeks! Also I know this has been pretty light on Victuuri moments this far, but trust me, starting here, it's mostly going to be building Victor and Yuuri's relationship.
> 
> Also I made an art instagram. It's not fanart, but it would be appreciated if you could drop by and maybe leave a like! It's called marciana.art
> 
> Anyway thanks for reading, comments fuel me, and come visit me at my tumblr pasteurellapestis!


	11. Chapter 11

Victor doesn't mention last night in the morning, so Yuuri doesn't either. He figures if Victor doesn't want to talk about it, Yuuri won't push.

As he's putting on his clothes, Yuuri remembers something. He remembers what he'd said to Victor last night.

_You did what you had to do._

When Victor felt guilty about killing that man, Yuuri had said, "You did what you had to do."

It brings to mind what Georgi said.

_"Your loved ones come before your morality."_

It makes sense to Yuuri now. That man in Morioka, he'd wanted to kidnap Yuuri. He'd wanted to bring him to Canada and do who-knows-what to him. Victor had killed him to protect Yuuri. Victor had saved his life.

They were driving to St. Petersburg today, and Yuuri knew he couldn't hold on to his past ideals. He didn't know how long he'd be in Russia, but he knew that he hadn't seen the last of the bloodshed. He had to learn to face it, whether he liked it or not.

Yuuri is so caught up in his inner reverie that he doesn't notice he's accidentally put on Victor's sweater until Victor points it out.

When he does, Yuuri blushes fiercely and moves to take it off.

"No!" Victor shouts.

Yuuri stops, surprised by his aggression.

"I mean," Victor says, his eyes glued to Yuuri's frame, "It looks really really cute on you. Please please don't take it off."

"Okay, I'll keep it on. It's comfy anyway," Yuuri says, looking at the ground as his face heats up.

Victor smiles. "Ready to go?" He asks.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Yuuri forces a smile.

* * *

  
Yuuri wakes up with a start to Mila shaking his shoulder.

"Yuuri! Yuuri!" She says, "We're here."

Yuuri sits up, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He sits up and stares out the window. The car is surrounded by woods as far as Yuuri can see, but Yuuri can just make out, over the top of the trees, the top of a house. A very large house.

They finally near a large iron gate, even though they are several acres away from the house itself. Two towers stand at each end of the gate, and Yuuri tries not tremble when he notices about a dozen armed guards standing sentry by the gate and in the towers.

The guards cock their rifles in warning as Victor rolls down the window.

"Andrei!" He says casually, waving to one of the guards, "Hello! Would you mind opening the gates?"

Andrei's eyes widen, "Sir." He swallows, "Of course. Of course, sir. We just didn't recognize the car."

He gestures wildly, and the gates creak open.

Yuuri stares out the window as they approach the house. His eyes widen and his jaw drops once he finally catches a full glimpse of the house.

It's as big as a palace. It's tall and wide with a banister-lined pathway leading to a double doorway surrounded by tall marble columns. Long arching windows drape across the house's brick walls, and several white balconies frame the many doors. A four-car garage leads off the side of it, a long winding driveway curving off.

Yuuri cannot close his jaw as they drive closer.

"You like it?" Mila teases.

"It's amazing," Yuuri answers, too awestruck to notice Mila's taunts.

Victor pulls the car up to the driveway and parks it. He gets out and immediately starts towards the door. Mila and Georgi follow suit.

"What about the bags?" Yuuri asks as he nervously steps out of the car.

"Don't worry," Victor slings an arm around Yuuri, "The maids will get them."

Maids. Right. Because Victor, as pakhan of the Bratva, is super freaking loaded.

A knot curls in Yuuri's stomach. He doesn't know who else lives in this house. What if someone tries to shoot Yuuri? What if Victor decides keeping him around isn't a good idea, and he kicks him out to fend for himself? Oh, God, Yuuri's not prepared for this.

He doesn't have much time to dwell on the matter before Victor knocks on the door. Yuuri stops breathing and hides behind Georgi's large frame.

"You know this house has a retinal scan, right?" Mila asks dryly.

"Yeah, but knocking is more dramatic," Victor answers. A buzz startles Yuuri, and he looks up to see four security cameras trained on the group.. He shivers. Spooky.

Yuuri hears a click as the door is unlocked, and before Yuuri can prepare himself, Victor whips open the door.

"Look who's back!" He trills in a singsong voice as he steps in.

Yuuri peers in from behind Georgi's back to see several men, who'd probably been in the middle of intense discussion, stop and turn to stare, their eyes widening.

The house is even more impressive on the inside. Not that Yuuri has time to dwell on that because there are several dozen Bratva men staring right at them.

"Whoops," Victor giggles, "I think I barged in at the wrong time. Is there a meeting going on?"

"Yes, Victor," an old man at the front of the crowd says, "Which you would know." The old man's voice rises, "If you hadn't left for two months."

Victor shrugs, "Sorry, Yakov?"

Yakov's face becomes red with fury, and he seems about to scream before he restrains himself, sighing and rubbing his temples.

"I'll get Yuri," he answers.

Yuuri is confused for a second after hearing his name until a slim blond teenager with gorgeous emerald eyes descends the staircase.

Yuuri's first thought is that he looks too young to be caught up in such dangerous work.

The other Yuri looks at Victor, his eyes cold and flashing.

"Where," he says, his voice tight with annoyance, "Have. You. Been."

"Japan!" Victor answers cheerfully, looking down at the seething teenager with fondness.

Yuri clenches his fists and seems about to say something else when he notices Yuuri. His brow furrows.

"Who's the pig?" He asks, his voice filled with disgust.

Pig?"

"Don't call people pigs, Yuri," Victor answers, "It's not polite."

Yuri doesn't pay attention to that comment, choosing to ignore Victor in favor of looking up and down Yuuri's appearance with abject disgust.

"Is that your sweater he's wearing?" Yuri asks, repulsed. Everyone in the house turns to look.

Yuuri can feel everyone's eyes on him, and a prickly heat starts to creep up the back of his neck. He resists the urge to wrap his arms around himself.

"Why, yes. It is," Victor answers, his voice still casual and calm, "I think he looks adorable in it."

Yuuri can see the surprise on everyone's faces, and he wishes he could just shrink into himself and hide, he feels so embarrassed.

Yuri's eyes trace up Yuuri's form until they land on the hickeys on his neck. Yuri's pretty features scrunch up.

"Are those hickeys?"

Yuuri feels dozens of eyes train into his neck. Oh, God, he's never been so embarrassed in his life.

To make matters worse, Victor curls an arm around Yuuri's hipbone, pulling Yuuri's body flush with his.

Yuri looks bewildered, "Who- Who is this, again?"

"His name is Yuuri Katsuki," Victor starts.

"His name is Yuri too?" Yuri asks, indignant.

"It's spelled Y-U-U-R-I," Victor replies, "And he'll be staying with us for a bit. He'll stay in my room, and he's no inconvenience to you."

Victor's room? Yuuri looks up at him in surprise, and the whole house shifts into a state of confusion, their eyes still focused solely on Yuuri.

At this point, getting kicked out actually sounds good to Yuuri. In any case, staying in Victor's room sounds like a bad idea, and he moves forward to point that out.

"Vitya-" he starts.

It's as if the whole room inhales sharply all at once. Yuri looks more perturbed than ever. Okay. Yuuri guesses that was a bad idea. He can feel the heat in his face creep up to his ears.

"Swallow me now, earth," he thinks, "Swallow me now."

"You know what, everyone out," Yakov shouts.

The house immediately roars into action, its dozens of people immediately starting for the door.

Once everyone's cleared out, Yakov turns to Victor, his eyes furious.

"Victor," he starts, his voice taut with anger.

"Yuuri is staying," Victor says, "That's not up for debate."

"You can't seriously-" Yuri sputters.

"Quiet, Yuri," Yakov answers, "I was just going to ask why this Japanese boy has to stay here."

"Long story short, JJ and Chris know who he is and they're after us," Victor responds.

"That damn Canadian, I'll rip his eyes right out of his head," Yuri growls, clenching his fists.

"Aah, how I've missed your teenage hormonal rage," Victor sighs as he rushes forward to envelop Yuri in a hug.

Yuri screams, waving his arms wildly, "Get off of me, you old coot!" He shoves Victor off. "And you stay away from me. Okay, Pig?" He hisses at Yuuri. Then he stomps upstairs.

"Ah, isn't he adorable," Victor says fondly.

Yuuri isn't sure "adorable" is the word he'd use.

* * *

  
Yuuri cannot fall asleep. He's staring up at the ceiling and listening to Victor's quiet breaths.

A month ago, Yuuri would have been lying asleep in his comfy room in Hasetsu, dozing off to the salty smell of the air. Now he lies in a king-size bed in a room larger than an apartment.

The house at night feels cold and hostile and far too large. The walls around him feel like stone barricades closing in on him. He tries to close his eyes, but he cannot sleep. He changes positions, trying to get comfortable, to no avail.

His rustling must have woken Victor because soon a sleepy "Yuuri?" emerges from the other side of the bed.

"Sorry," Yuuri answers automatically, "I can't sleep."

"I'll stay up with you," Victor offers.

Yuuri smiles. Victor is so kind and so polite, and he's willing to stay up with Yuuri, whom he owes nothing to.

"You don't have to," Yuuri says, "Just . . . Tell me a story."

"What kind of story?"

"I don't know. Anything. Just . . . A story," Yuuri answers, settling against Victor's chest. He hears Victor's breath hitch and wonders if his weight is inhibiting Victor's breathing. Victor seems fine after that, though, so Yuuri snuggles in.

"Um . . . You know, up until I was twenty, I had long hair," Victor starts, stroking his fingers through Yuuri's hair.

"Really?" Yuuri asks.

"Yeah. All the way down to my hips."

Yuuri tries to imagine a young, fairy-like Victor with long long silver hair, and he giggles a little.

"Don't you laugh at me, Yuuri!" Victor teases, "I was gorgeous. Mila always used to love doing my hair. She was very good at it too. She'd put it up into all sorts of updos and braids and things."

"This one time, I was nineteen, and I'd neglected to remember that I was sitting in, for the very first time, on one of my father's meetings. You know, part of my learning how to be pakhan, I guess. So Mila had done my hair that day, and she'd gone all out, and I hated to have to disassemble all her hard work, so I decided to leave her masterpiece as it was."

"So for the past half hour, my dad's been telling this lower-rank Bratva goons how _impressive_ his son was, how _dedicated_ and _clever_ and _ruthless_ and how much of a perfect leader he was. And then I walk in there, my hair in perfect little ringlets, the front pieces poofed and teased and pinned back with a giant pink lace bow all 60's style, and," Victor starts laughing.

"Oh God, Yuuri, let me tell you. The looks on those guys' faces. It was priceless. My dad looked like he'd been sucking on a lemon, and Yakov looked like he wanted to strangle me."

Yuuri starts laughing too, picturing teenage Victor with his hair all done up.

"Two weeks later, I turned twenty, and my dad made me cut it all off," Victor chuckles, "Mila literally sobbed as she watched."

"Aw," Yuuri giggles, "I would've liked to see little Victor with long hair."

"I'd grow it out for you, but Yakov would have my head," Victor answers, laughing.

Yuuri smiles, feeling more relaxed, and buries his head further into Victor's chest, curling his arms around Victor's midriff. Victor stares at him, appearing deep in thought.

"Hey, I have an idea," he says.

Yuuri sits up confused.

Victor smiles, "Follow me."

* * *

  
Yuuri is adorably bewildered as Victor drags him down the stairs into the main foyer.

"Where are we going?" Yuuri whispers.

"You don't have to whisper," Victor giggles.

"Oh," Yuuri says only slightly louder. Victor resists the urge to pull him in by the collar and kiss him.

""Are you going to tell me what we're doing now?" Yuuri asks as they reach the bottom of the steps.

"Dance with me," Victor demands, pulling Yuuri by the hands until they're standing in the center of the grand foyer, right underneath the chandelier.

"What?" Yuuri asks.

"Dance with me!" Victor exclaims, hopping up and down a little excitedly.

"What? Do you even know how to dance?" Yuuri asks.

"I know how to waltz," Victor says, winking as seductively as he can.

Yuuri flushes red, but he starts giggling, "Um, okay?"

Victor gestures towards Yuuri, "You lead."

"I'm shorter than you," Yuuri giggles in that cute way Victor adores.

"Still. You lead," Victor answers, "You'll be the dashing, debonair gentleman, and I'll be the gorgeous, coquettish lady."

"You're going to be a lady?" Yuuri snorts incredulously.

"I can be a lady!" Victor huffs. He bats his eyelashes, sways his hips, and tilts his head elegantly, "See?"

Victor can see Yuuri's Adam's apple bob as he swallows hard. Then Yuuri laughs again, and Victor's heart jumps.

"Whatever you say," Yuuri says.

He strides towards Victor, bows down at his waist and kisses Victor's hand. Victor's heart skips a beat. Yuuri peers up at Victor from under long coal-black eyelashes and winks flirtily.

"May I have this dance?" He asks.

Oh, God, Victor is not prepared for that level of hotness. Victor feels a flush start to spread over his cheeks, but he has little time to dwell on the fact that _Victor Nikiforov_ does not blush for people not even pretty Japanese boys with big cinnamon eyes and flirty winks, before he realizes he has yet to answer Yuuri's proposal.

"You may," Victor says, offering his other hand to Yuuri.

Yuuri smirks a little, and Victor has little time to prepare before Yuuri is pulling him flush against his chest, and Victor feels like he's going to explode.

It's impossible to take his eyes off Yuuri as they dance. Yuuri's eyes sparkle as he spins Victor around, and Victor is sure he's going to faint of Yuuri doesn't stop being so gosh dang gorgeous.

Then Yuuri starts giggling, and the absolute cuteness of it makes Victor giggle, and then he remembers he's in Yuuri Katsuki's arms and he sinks into Yuuri further, relishing in the feeling. Yuuri spins him around one more time and then dips him, one hand resting on Victor's thigh, the other on the small of his back.

Victor's heart stops, and all he can do is look up at Yuuri, beautiful perfect Yuuri.

The moment is over quicker than Victor would've liked, and Yuuri is setting Victor upright again. Victor tries not to look disappointed.

Yuuri laughs, "That was really fun, actually."

"See, you just have to get used to life here," Victor says. He steps forward and brushes the hair away from Yuuri's face, "And you'll see your family again. I'll make sure of it."

Yuuri swallows but doesn't pull away, and Victor is once again enraptured by how much he loves Yuuri Katsuki.

"Would you pipe it down?" A very angry Yuri screams from the second floor, "Some of us are trying to sleep!"

Victor and Yuuri look at each other once and burst out laughing. When they finally calm down, Yuuri looks up at Victor and smiles.

"Thank you," he says.

"My pleasure," Victor says.

He wants to say "Anything for you" or "I love you."

He doesn't.

* * *

  
Christophe Giacometti leans back in his chair and studies the framed picture on his desk. He runs a finger over the glass.

"Masumi," he breathes.

It's been five years since his lover, his soulmate, died. It was a raid on the last remaining scraps of the Plisetsky gang that had claimed his love.

A good man had died so a bad one could live.

Christophe did not know where Nikolai Plisetsky was, where the devil camped out these days. He'd disappeared eighteen years ago, and after that, those still loyal to him started to slowly disappear too.

Yet, Christophe resolved to find out.

He would find Nikolai Plisetsky. He would find him and kill him and make him suffer the way his followers made Chris's precious darling suffer.

Christophe picked up the picture on his desk, holding the image of his dead love to the light.

"I'll avenge you," he whispered. It was a promise he'd made several times, but it was only now that he was sure he could keep it.

Yuri Plisetsky.

The only Plisetsky to track down.

Yuri was under the protection of Victor Nikiforov. Chris had had no chance of getting to him before.

Until Yuuri Katsuki showed up, and Chris realized he had a way and a path drawn right in front of him.

"Hans!" Chris calls.

Hans rushes to Chris's office immediately. "Yes, sir?" He asks hurriedly.

"Pack your bags," Chris says, "We're leaving tomorrow."

"To where, sir?" Hans asks.

Chris smirks, "Russia."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and thanks so much for reading!
> 
> I'm sorry this chapter took a bit longer than usual I've been extremely busy but here it is! So just to clarify Victor and Yuuri are not in a relationship yet and while JJ and Chris are the antagonists of this story they are not villains.
> 
> As always comments fuel me and come visit me at my tumblr pasteurellapestis!


	12. Chapter 12

The household treats Yuuri like a king. They cater to his every wish and whim, no matter how casually spoken.

"I miss my mother's katsudon," Yuuri says offhand to Victor one day. The next day, there is more katsudon than Yuuri could possible eat, crafted from ingredients imported straight from Japan, on the dinner table.

"I love dancing on a stage. It's more rewarding than any studio," Yuuri mentions while eating lunch with Victor. Immediately after lunch, Yuuri overhears Victor calling someone to start plans for a theatre attached to the house.

It's when Yuuri jokingly mentions wanting a time machine and then overhears Victor debating the probability of being able to build one with Yuri that he realizes he needs to be more careful with what he says.

He doesn't know if Victor feels bad about Yuuri not being able to go home, or if he wants Yuuri to be comfortable here in Russia, but either way it's getting to be a bit much.

Yuuri does like it in Russia, unexpectedly. He's getting accustomed to this house, to these people. He yearns for Hasetsu, but he's become more comfortable here. The food is good, and people are unfailingly nice to him -which probably has something to do with the arm Victor insists on draping around him all the time, but who is Yuuri to complain?

"You done stuffing your fat face, yet?" Yuri snarks from where he lean against the wall.

Well, most people are unfailingly nice.

Yuuri swallows the last of his food. "Done now," he replies.

Yuri's frown deepens if possible, and his green eyes glint menacingly. Everyone in the household seems to be terrified of Yuri for some reason Yuuri can't comprehend. Sure he's mean, but he's a kid and it's hard to take his anger personally.

Despite it all, Yuri reminds him of a disgruntled cat, and Yuuri has grown fond of him.

"Natalia," Yuri calls, and one of the maids immediately rushes in, her eyes very quickly dropping to the floor.

"Clean up Katsudon's plate," Yuri says, a smirk just barely tugging at his lips.

"Of course, sir," Natalia says, still refusing to meet Yuri's eyes.

Yuuri can feel the tension rising in the air, and he is quick to intervene. "It's alright. I can get it myself."

"Don't you dare, Katsudon," Yuri says, not taking his eyes off Natalia.

"Yes, Mr. Katsuki, sir," Natalia says, "It is my pleasure."

"You know, Natalia, how come you never call me by my real name?" Yuri says, his voice filled with mock hurt.

"Pardon, sir?"

"Well, I mean you called the pig 'Mr. Katsuki'. I have a name too, you know."

Natalia swallows audibly. "Of course, Mr. . . Mr. Plisetsky," she says, voice trembling. She looks as if about to cry

Yuuri is unsure whether he should say something or leave, and actually he's not even sure what's going on.

Yuri turns to face Yuuri, his green eyes glinting with something indecipherable. There's anger in there, hatred, and mistrust, but also, just maybe a twinge of sadness.

The looks is gone before Yuuri can really tell, and Yuri whips around and stalks out of the room, leaving behind a visibly shaken Natalia, who has started to cry.

Not for the first time, Yuuri wonders who -or what- Yuri is.

* * *

  
"Victor," Yuuri asks that night as they get ready for bed, "Why does everyone seem so scared of Yuri?"

Victor sighs, "What did he do today?"

"Scared a maid," Yuuri answers, "Natalia."

"Oh, that boy," Victor huffs, "I'll assume you've figured out we're not blood brothers?"

Yuuri nods.

Victor turns and sits down on the bed.

"When I was nine, Yuri's grandpa pushed Yuri into my arms and then bled to death promptly after."

Yuuri draws a hand up to his mouth, "Oh, my God."

"Yuri's grandpa was a man by the name of Nikolai Plisetsky," Victor continues, "Now don't go repeating that name around the house, or asking anyone about it."

"Why?"

"Nikolai Plisetsky was the head of a minor gang a while back," Victor answers, "Though I guess, not quite so minor. That gang almost destroyed the Bratva. It wasn't a structured organization like what I run, but a chaotic cult formed around a singular fear of Nikolai. His gang was responsible for hundreds of deaths. I guarantee you every single member of this household has lost someone to him."

"He killed his son-in-law, you know. Then his daughter, in a fit of rage so reminiscent of her father, shot him and ran away, leaving her newborn baby behind."

Victor looks Yuuri dead in the eyes, his blue eyes solemn, "I hate Nikolai Plisetsky with every breath in my body, but he gave me my little brother, and for that, I'll thank him one thousand times over."

"So everyone here is scared of Yuri just because he's Nikolai's grandson?" Yuuri asks, incredulously.

"Yes," Victor responds, "But you have to understand, Yuuri, Nikolai Plisetsky didn't just kill. Nikolai Plisetsky tortured, raped, scalped, burned, dismembered, and he forced you to watch your loved ones die. And Yuri- so I've heard, Yuri has his eyes. A perfect likeness, they say."

Victor chuckles, "It's funny, when he was a baby, his eyes were identical to mine."

"What did Nikolai do to Natalia?"

"Raped her daughter. Forced her to watch. Then he cut her daughter's throat and left her to bleed."

Yuuri feels sick to his stomach. "Poor Yuri."

"Don't worry about it," Victor says, "Yuri doesn't know who his grandfather is.  He just likes to scare them. If makes him feel older, more intimidating."

"I don't know," Yuuri responds, "He seems lonely."

Victor stops and smiles at Yuuri, "You're very caring. You know that?" He wraps his arms around Yuuri and hugs him tight. "Come on. Let's get some sleep."

* * *

  
Yuuri can't sleep again, but for different reasons this time.

He's looking down at Victor's sleeping form, trying to quench the butterflies in his stomach, and telling himself that he is not in love with the pakhan of the Bratva.

And yet every time he tells himself he isn't, he falls a little more in love.

Yuuri thinks he realized it when dancing with Victor yesterday, when Victor was smiling and giggly and his blue eyes shone like stars, and Yuuri could feel every thump of his own heart in his chest.

No matter what, it's irresponsible and stupid and it will never happen because there is no way Victor sees Yuuri as anything more than . . . Actually Yuuri doesn't know what Victor sees him as.

He thinks Victor cares about him at least a little, otherwise he wouldn't have gone through so much trouble for him. Victor has killed for Yuuri, so he must care a little.

But to what extent, Yuuri doesn't know.

He wishes Victor loved him.

As selfish as it is, he really does.

* * *

  
Yuri hates Yuuri.

He hates him.

He hates how he can just waltz in here with Yuri's big brother after two months like nothing is wrong. He hates how Victor special orders imported food and builds whole theatres for Yuuri. He hates how much Mila and Georgi seem to love him.

But most of all, he hates how Yuuri isn't scared of him. He hates how Yuuri looks at him with big soft kind eyes. He hates it. He hates it. He hates it.

He hates it because _goddamnit_ , Yuri was made to be feared. What other explanation is there for a mother who didn't want him, a grandfather who was a monster, and an absent father? Yuri was created by monsters to be a monster, and he cant handle how the other Yuuri looks at him. As if he were a child.

He can't stand it. Can't take it.

Yuri is completely solitary in this world.

Yuri has no one.

Yuri needs no one.

At least that's what he tells himself

* * *

  
They come at midnight, and no one is prepared. They swarm in like flies and their leader knows how to disable the security so well that it makes his men look at each other and wonder.

They slit a dozen throats to get in and slit a dozen more once they are inside, but they don't pay mind to whose blood they spill.

They are after one thing, and one thing only.

The kin of a monster. The boy with the green eyes.

Yuri Plisetsky.

And they will get to him by any means necessary.

They don't care whose blood they spill.

The man who stabs the soft brown-eyed Japanese boy who tries to keep him from getting into the Plisetsky boy's room doesn't wait around long enough to see his body hit the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I swear the plot starts to speed up after this chapter. This is kind of a filler chapter, but the next chapter is going to be long and heavy and angst-filled, so bear with me! Anyway, please comment if you can and come talk to me at my tumblr pasteurellapestis!


	13. Chapter 13

Yuuri is woken by light footsteps in the hallway outside the room he shares with Victor. He sits up. Hushed whispers emanate from behind the door. Yuuri wonders if he's imagining things but a hurried "shhh!" and more frantic whispering tells him he's definitely not.

Yuuri quietly gets up from the bed as not to disturb Victor and presses his ear against the door. He can just faintly hear two men

"You sure this is it?"

"Of course I'm sure"

"How do you know this house so well anyway? How did you know how to disable the security system?"

"I'm registered in the retinal scan."

"What? How?"

"Enough questions! We're here for one thing only!"

Yuuri's blood freezes. He doesn't know who the first voice belongs to, but he definitely recognizes the second one.

Christophe Giacometti. The man who tried to kill Mila and Georgi.

Yuuri very carefully opens the door a tiny crack and peers out. Sure enough, he sees a familiar blond head bent over, picking at the lock of a door farther down the hallway.

Yuri's room.

Yuuri remembers lonely green eyes.

Yuuri hears the click of a lock as Chris manages to pick it open. He sees the sharp pale edge of a knife glinting from the other man's hand, and he doesn't think. He just acts.

Before he knows what he's doing, he's screaming as loud as he can, leaping down the hallway and tackling Chris to the ground. Chris shrieks before his mouth is muffled into the carpet.

It probably would've been pretty funny in any other circumstance, but what happens next isn't even close to funny.

Yuuri barely has time to register what he's done before he feels an intense pressure on his back. At first he thinks he's being punched.

Then he looks down to see the sharp glinting point of the other man's knife protruding from his own chest. He sees his own blood dripping down his shirt, feels it wet against his skin.

Only then does the pain erupt.

Yuuri collapses onto the floor in agony. His thoughts are getting fuzzier and fuzzier. His vision is blurring, and he can feel himself losing consciousness.

The last thing he hears is someone scream "Yuuri!"

* * *

  
Yuuri can't see anything but shades of black and white. Yuuri feels numb and drained. Where is he? What's going on? Where's Victor? The last thing he remembers is blood. Lots of it.

"You can't stay here forever, Vitya," Yuuri hears a gruff voice say. Yakov, probably.

"I can't leave him," another voice says. Yuuri sighs in relief. Victor's here.

"The doctors said he'd be fine. The knife missed all vital arteries," Yakov continues.

"I know. I want to stay with him," Victor says, "I want to be here with him until he wakes up."

For a moment, neither man speaks.

"You love him," Yakov says in disbelief.

Victor is silent.

"You do," Yakov grumbles, "I thought you were the good one. Even when Mila and Georgi got swept up with their lovers, I said, that won't be Victor. Victor only sees his work. Victor is a born pakhan."

Victor still remains silent.

"You know, he can never love you back, right?" Yakov continues, but his voice is soft and gentle, "You know he can never hold your hand without seeing the blood on it?"

"I know," Victor says, "Believe me. I do."

Yakov sighs. "So you know he could never stay here."

"I don't want him to stay here," Victor says, "I want him to go home and dance on a real stage and marry someone who can give him a long, happy, normal life. I'm going to do everything I can to make sure that happens."

"Even kill Chris?" Yakov asks.

Victor is silent for a moment.

"You should leave. Go see how Yuri is," he says finally.

"Okay," Yakov responds, "But think about what you're doing, Vitya, and if he's worth it."

"He is," Victor answers softly, "He's worth anything and everything."

That is the last thing Yuuri hears before he loses consciousness again.

* * *

  
When Yuuri wakes up, his first thought is Yuri.

"Yuuri! You're awake!" Victor says from where he sits at Yuuri's bedside.

"What happened? Is Yuri okay?" Yuuri asks frantically.

"He's fine. Everyone heard you scream, and we managed to stop them before they could get to Yuri. Chris got away, but we got everyone else," Victor responds, "You saved Yuri's life."

"And I got stabbed?" Yuuri asks incredulously. That seems so surreal tho him. That he got stabbed. After all this time, Yuuri had almost forgotten where he was, who he was with. Getting stabbed through the back was a gruesome reminder that he's with the mafia now. Everything is different.

"Yeah," Victor says, "But you're fine! The doctor says no vital arteries were damaged."

"Yeah, that's what-" Yuuri pauses.

"That's what what?" Victor asks.

 _"That's what you said before you said you loved me,"_ Yuuri thinks.

"Nothing," Yuuri says.

"Okay," Victor smiles and gingerly wraps his arms around Yuuri's waist, resting his head in his lap, "I'm so happy you're okay. I was so worried."

 _"I love you too. I love you so much. I'll love you forever. Stay with me. Stay close to me,"_ is what Yuuri wants to say.

"I'm okay," is what he does say.

* * *

  
Yuri comes to visit him after Victor is called away on business.

"Hi," he says awkwardly, shoulders slumped, eyes downcast.

"Hi, Yuri," Yuuri smiles, "How are you holding up?"

"How am I holding up?" Yuri says in disbelief, "You got fucking stabbed!"

"Yeah, but I'm fine," Yuuri shrugs, "They were after you."

It occurs to Yuuri that he doesn't actually know why they were after Yuri.

"Yeah, but," Yuri swallows, "You saved my life by screaming like a little bitch. So . . . Thanks."

Yuuri laughs, "No need to thank me, Yuri. All I did was get myself stabbed."

Yuri shakes his head. "No, you were . . . Brave or whatever," he mutters. "But now you're back to being a stupid pig, so," he says loudly

Yuuri laughs, "I'm just glad you're okay. I would've been devastated if something had happened to you."

Something cracks behind Yuri's glassy green eyes.

"Only because you don't know me," Yuri mutters, "Everyone else is mad I'm still alive."

"Don't say that," Yuuri says.

"It's true!" Yuri exclaims, "They all hate me because my stupid grandpa did something bad, and all they can see when they look at me is him."

Yuuri doesn't know how to reply.

"They say I look just like him. A mirror image," Yuri continues, "But it's funny. When I was little, no one could even tell I wasn't Victor's brother."

"I thought about changing my last name to Nikiforov," Yuri says, "I thought it would make people talk to me easier. But then I realized no matter what I do, people aren't gonna see anything but my grandpa when they look at me."

"Oh, Yuri," Yuuri says, "You're not a monster."

"You don't even know what my grandpa did. I don't even know!" Yuri exclaims.

"I do, actually. Victor told me," Yuuri replies, "I may not have witnessed it like some of the people in this house, but I know what kind of stuff he did. And I also know that his actions don't make you a monster."

"Victor told you and not me?" Yuri asks indignantly.

"Yeah, but he's just trying to look out for you! He does his best!" Yuuri says, "He always tries to make sure the people he cares about are happy."

Yuri looks like he's about to say something, but then he pauses and turns slowly to meet Yuuri's eyes.

"Oh, my God," he says, "You're in love with my brother."

"What?" Yuuri squeaks, cheeks burning red.

"Holy crap! You are!" Yuri exclaims.

"No, I'm not!" Yuuri says unconvincingly.

"Don't lie," Yuri says, green eyes stern.

Yuuri blushes. "Don't tell him, please."

"I won't," Yuri says, "But he's disgustingly in love with you too, you know. So I think you should tell him."

"You know what? We're getting off track. We were talking about how people care about you, and how you're not a monster? Remember?" Yuuri says. His voice softens, "I want you to know that. I want you to know that you're not alone. You've got Victor and Mila and Georgi and now, you've got me."

"Thanks," Yuri mumbles, turning red, "But you're all boring and old. The only cool person I know is Beka."

"Who's Beka?" Yuuri asks.

Yuri's eyes light up. "Oh, my God. His name is Otabek Altin, but I call him Beka, and he is the coolest person ever. He's from Kazakhstan, and he drives a motorcycle, and he's a DJ, and he wear awesome leather jackets, and literally every girl and guy he meets is like in love with him and he's my best friend and he's so so so cool!"

"Sounds like you have a bit of a crush," Yuuri teases.

"What?" Yuri turns red, "No, I don't!"

"Yes, you do," Yuuri giggles.

"No, I don't!" Yuri grumbles.

Yuuri laughs, "Sure."

"I don't!" Yuri exclaims adamantly.

"Whatever you say," Yuuri smiles.

"Well, it looks like you two are having fun," Victor says, walking into the room.

"We were until you showed up," Yuri says.

Victor places a hand over his heart and gasps, "Yuri! You wound me." He collapses dramatically onto a chair, laying his head on Yuuri's lap. "Yuuri, hold me. I'm so hurt."

Yuri screams and throws a pillow at Victor. Victor dodges it, laughing.

"What were you guys talking about?" He asks.

"Nothing!" Yuri says at the same time as Yuuri says, "Yuri's crush on Otabek."

Victor gasps, eyes shining. "Yuri has a crush on Otabek?"

"No!" Yuri screams.

"Yes, he does," Yuuri smirks, "You were saying how he's the coolest person you know."

"Aw," Victor coos, "Baby Yuri has a crush!"

"Shut up! I don't have a crush," Yuri stomps his foot, "And I'm not a baby! I'm eighteen!"

"Aww, isn't he cute?" Yuuri teases.

"So cute!" Victor laughs.

Yuri's annoyed scream can be heard from all over the house.

* * *

  
"Victor?" Yuuri asks one night as they lie in bed

"Yeah?"

"How come Chris came after Yuri?" Yuuri continues.

Victor pauses for a second.

"Nikolai Plisetsky's followers killed his husband a few five years ago. They'd been in love since they were both sixteen. They'd gotten married the minute they turned eighteen," Victor says, "His husband, Masumi, didn't want to have any part of Chris's lifestyle. He had a normal job, did normal things. Chris loved him a lot."

Victor speaks about Chris and his husband with such familiarity that it makes Yuuri remember the other thing he's been burning to ask.

"How was Chris's eye on the retinal scan?" Yuuri asks.

Victor doesn't answer.

"Victor?" Yuuri asks tentatively.

"It's late," Victor replies, "Go to sleep."

Yuuri decides not to press more. "Okay," he says, "Good night."

For a few minutes, they are both silent.

"I don't know how he did it," Victor says.

"Did what?" Yuuri asks.

"Had a relationship with someone normal, someone not involved in all this shit," Victor says, "I think it's pretty selfish to pull someone you love into this life."

"Maybe Masumi chose to be there," Yuuri says, "I think if he loved Chris, he would've wanted to stay with him wherever."

"Maybe," Victor says noncommittally.

Yuuri can't take it anymore.

"I heard you," he blurts, "When you said you loved me in the hospital room, I heard you."

Victor is silent, and Yuuri panics. What if he misheard? What if he was hopped up on painkillers or something? What if it was all a dream?

"You did?" Victor asks hesitantly.

"Yeah," Yuuri says.

"Look, Yuuri. I-" Victor starts.

"I love you too," Yuuri blurts.

Victor rolls over in bed to face Yuuri, his face inches away from Yuuri's. His eyes are sad. Yuuri's heart pounds.

"If you heard me then you know we could never be together," Victor answers. Yuuri swears he can see the glint of a tear in Victor's eyes.

"Why not?" Yuuri asks.

"Because I love you too much to ever put you in harm's way," Victor answers. He sniffles a little, and Yuuri realizes that he's definitely crying.

"But I want to stay with you!" Yuuri says, "I don't want a happy normal life with someone else, I just want you!"

Victor is silent save for the occasional sniffle.

"It's too late for me to go back anyway," Yuuri says, "I miss my family, I love my family, but it's too late. JJ and Chris aren't your only enemies, Victor. They'll be looking to work out an alliance, and soon everyone's gonna know about me, Victor, whether you like it or not. If I want to keep my family safe, I can never go home."

Victor lets out a sob. Yuuri blinks in surprise and looks up to see Victor's eyes shining with misty tears.

"I just want you to be happy, Yuuri," he cries.

"And I'll be happy with you," Yuuri says. He can feel himself tearing up too.

Victor wraps his arms around Yuuri's waist and pulls him close.

"I'll protect you," Victor says, "I'll protect you until the day I die. I love you. I love you so so so much."

"I love you too," Yuuri says, "So so much."

* * *

  
JJ moves quickly, as not to attract unwanted attention. His wife is a light sleeper, and he needs to get out before she wakes up.

"JJ?" A groggy voice says.

JJ freezes. Shit. So much for that.

"Where are you going?" Isabella says, sitting up.

"Out," he says.

"At 1:00 am?" Isabella asks.

"Uh, yeah," JJ lies. JJ is a terrible liar.

"You're going to Russia. Aren't you?" Isabella accuses.

JJ knows there's no point in lying. "Yeah," he admits.

"JJ," she says sternly, "This isn't something you do alone. We were supposed to go together."

"I know," JJ says sheepishly.

"Why didn't you wait for me? Do you not think I can handle this?" Isabella asks.

"You know that's not it!" JJ exclaims, "You're like the smartest person in the world! There's no one more qualified than you to do literally anything."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Isabella says, but a smile plays at the corner of her lips.

"It's not flattery. It's the truth," JJ says honestly.

Isabella opens her mouth to reply before a wail from the crib in the corner cuts her off.

"Oh, Lizzy!" Isabella coos, lifting the baby out of the crib. JJ dashes over to help comfort his daughter.

The baby starts to calm down. She sees JJ and smiles.

"Daddy," she coos in her little baby voice.

JJ and Isabella freeze.

"Did she just?" Isabella whispers.

"Daddy," the baby says again.

"She did," JJ says, eyes shining with tears and pride.

"She said her first word," Isabella says, voice choked with tears of joy.

"Mommy," the baby says, reaching up towards Isabella's face.

Isabella lets out a loud sob. JJ stifles a sniffle and wraps his arms around his wife and daughter.

"She's going to be such a beautiful girl," JJ says, "She's going to be just as smart and strong as her mother."

He presses a kiss to Isabella's cheek and to his little Lizzy's head.

"I love my beautiful girls," JJ says, wiping a tear from his cheek.

"And we love you too," Isabella says, leaning against JJ's shoulder.

"You're right, Izzy," JJ says, "We need to go together. I wanted you to stay here where you couldn't get hurt, but I can't take down Nikiforov without you."

"Damn right, you can't," Isabella teases, but her voice still quivers with tears.

"Victor Nikiforov's father killed my parents," JJ says, "And now, we're finally going to get revenge. We're going to get rid of the biggest threat to our family. Our beautiful baby Lizzy is going to grow up and live a long happy life."

"Yes," Isabella nods, "Yes, we are going to do this." She looks up at JJ, "For our family."

"For our family," JJ echoes.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait but see Yuuri's not dead. and Victuuri confessed, Isabella and JJ's child can say words now, everyone's happy blah blah blah BUT next chapter SHIT GOES DOWN. People in this story will cry and be very very sad. ANGST HAPPENS.
> 
> Anyway thanks for reading, comments fuel my writing, and come talk to me at my tumblr pasteurellapestis!


	14. Chapter 14

"He's a natural," Mila says, sipping a cup of tea in a lawn chair as they watch Yuuri practice shooting with Georgi, "It just took him a while to get comfortable using a weapon."

Victor feels a pang of guilt spark in his stomach. He knows he's the reason Yuuri was scared of guns, and it hurts to think that he was the cause of Yuuri's pain. Yuuri giggles at something Georgi says, his nose scrunching up cutely, and Victor thinks, not for the first time, that he doesn't deserve the ray of sunshine that is Yuuri Katsuki.

"Is it selfish of me to say I'm glad he ended up getting dragged along with us?" Mila asks softly.

"Yeah, I think it is," Victor answers, "But that means I'm selfish too."

Mila smiles. "I think you two are good for each other. Yuuri needs someone who believes in him more than he believes in himself. And you need someone who inspires you to be better."

Victor smiles, "Yuuri is the best thing that ever happened to me."

Across the lawn Yuuri shoots five bullseyes in a row. He turns to look back at Victor and smiles. "Did you see that?" He asks.

Victor beams back at him. "You're perfect, solnyshko!"

"I think you mean, 'That was perfect,'" Yuuri laughs.

"No," Victor smiles fondly, resting his chin in his hand, "No, I don't."

* * *

  
_Limbs twist awkwardly like some odd jig._

_Glinting green eyes wide open like a startled rabbit's._

_A jaw pulled open._

_Pistol against the roof of his mouth._

_BANG!_

_The back of the head's all blown up._

_The man's dead_

_Wait, no, it's not the man. It's his mother. It's his father. It's Phichit. It's Minako. It's Mari. It's Mila. It's Georgi._

_It's Victor._

Yuuri screams, sitting up in bed.

"Yuuri!" Victor exclaims sitting up.

Yuuri turns to look at Victor, perfectly alive and beautiful Victor, as he tries to get the image of Victor, dead on the floor, out of his mind.

He lunges forward and wraps his arms around Victor's torso. Victor cradles his head softly.

"Sorry," Yuuri mumbles, "It's just . . . It's just that stupid nightmare again."

Victor tenses. "The nightmare I caused."

Yuuri sits up. "No, Victor," he pleads, "Stop blaming yourself."

Victor buries his face in the crook of Yuuri's neck. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

Yuuri tangles his fingers in Victor's hair. "Don't apologize," he says softly, "You didn't do anything."

Victor nods, but Yuuri hears him sniffle. He thinks for a moment and then pulls away from Victor to grab his hands.

"Dance with me?" He asks, remembering that first night when he couldn't sleep and he and Victor had danced in the hall.

Victor smiles, eyes watery, and lets Yuuri pull him up from the bed.

They don't dance extravagantly and playfully like they did that first night. They don't even go downstairs. They stay in their room and hold each other close and just sway together. Yuuri leans his head against Victor's chest, and Victor kisses the top of his head. Yuuri puts Victor's music on shuffle, and by coincidence, the first song to play is "Tiny Dancer."

 _Hold me closer, tiny dancer_  
_Count the headlights on the highway_  
_Lay me down in sheets of linen  
You had a busy day today_

"I wish I could give you a normal life, Yuuri," Victor says softly, "I wish we could live in some average American state like Michigan or something, and we'd live in this little ranch house in the suburbs. And every Sunday, I'll go out with our neighbors Barbara and Karen to get our nails done and we gossip about the other moms on the PTA. And you crack open a cold beer with their husbands Todd and Mark while you watch football."

Yuuri giggles. "I'd like to see you live in a ranch house in the suburbs," he says, "Also why do you get to go get your nails done with Barbara and Karen? Why can't I get my nails done?"

"Because I don't like beer," Victor says, making a face.

"I don't like beer either," Yuuri argues, "Plus Barbara likes me better. She told me her secret brownie recipe for the food drive."

"She told you and not me?" Victor mock gasps, "I thought she didn't tell anyone after Sarah stole her recipe and got to be the chairwoman of the bake sale."

"Guess this means I get to go get my nails done?" Yuuri asks innocently.

"But Karen likes me better," Victor says, "We got cocktails the other day, and she told me how she thinks her husband is cheating on her with their college-age babysitter."

Yuuri gasps, "No way! You mean Liza? I thought she was a nice girl!"

Victor nods seriously, "Yup."

Yuuri laughs, "Okay, compromise. We both get to go get our nails done with Karen and Barbara."

"Do you think Todd and Mark will mind?" Victor asks.

"Nah," Yuuri answers, "More beer for the both of them."

They look at each other seriously for a moment then burst out laughing.

"I love you," Victor says once his giggles fade.

"I love you too," Yuuri says, leaning up to kiss Victor.

Victor is just leaning forward to kiss back when they hear gunshots.

"Oh no, not again," Victor mutters. He turns to Yuuri. "Wait here."

"Wait!" Yuuri hisses, "Victor, hold on! Who is it!"

Victor opens his mouth to answer, but a scream distracts him. "Stay here," he pleads, "please."

Yuuri nods. He knows he can't be much help to Victor so the best thing to do is stay and wait. Victor rifles through his desk drawer and pulls out a pistol, pressing it into Yuuri's palm.

"Just in case someone comes up here," he whispers.

Yuuri nods.

"I love you," Victor says, pressing his lips to Yuuri's forehead.

"I love you too," Yuuri says as Victor runs out the door.

Yuuri peers out the door with caution, but his vision is obstructed by the wall of the hallway in front of him. If he moved closer to the wall, he could see the stairs and anyone who climbs them. He steps out of the room cautiously and presses himself against the wall, peering around it with trepidation. He can just make out the first floor from where he is. He cranes his neck for a better view, and when he gets it, his blood freezes.

It's JJ.

He looks manic. His brown hair a mess, his eyes wild, his clothes splattering with blood as he stabs some poor guard with an already bloodied knife. There are bloodied bodies strewn around him, and Yuuri frantically scans them for any signs of Mila or Georgi or Yuri. He doesn't see any of them.

His eye does catch one familiar body, and when it does, he gasps, his stomach lurching.

Yakov.

He lies prone on the floor, curled up as if kicked in the stomach. A pool of blood oozes from his gaping mouth. His eyes stare unseeing as blood trickles from the hole between them. Yuuri's heart pounds frantically.

"Leroy," a cool voice cuts through the silence.

Yuuri's heart pounds more furiously. Victor. He sees the silver back of Victor's head come into view.

"Nikiforov," JJ responds, voice heavy with anger, "You came just in time."

Yuuri can feel his heart beating in his ears. This isn't good this isn't good this isn't good. He begs whatever deity can hear him to _not let Victor see Yakov's body please don't let him it'll hurt him please._

As if reading Yuuri's thoughts, JJ walks over to Yakov's body and delivers a perfunctory kick to it with the heel of his boot. Victor's back stiffens, and Yuuri winces.

 _No no no no no no no-_ "You bastard," Victor says, his voice colder and sharper than an icicle. Yuuri's never heard him talk like that. It sends a chill up his spine.

"You bastard!" He screams, voice cracking and Yuuri hears in his voice that he has lost all reason. He watches Victor lunge at JJ. It's clumsy and awkward and driven entirely by his anger, and by the smirk on JJ's face as he throws Victor onto the ground, it's exactly what JJ wants.

Victor makes a few more clumsy attacks, his emotions tampering with his reason, but JJ deflects them all, tossing Victor onto the ground again and again. Each slam of Victor's body on the floor hurts Yuuri's heart but it's Victor it's unstoppable unbeatable beautiful Victor and he _always gets up he has to get up he has to beat JJ he will he will._

Yuuri clenches the gun he forgot he was holding harder as he watches JJ kick Victor sharply in the stomach. He feels like screaming as he watches JJ kick him again. He feels like crying when JJ does it again. Victor lies on the ground and just takes it.

The gun feels cold and stiff in Yuuri's clammy hands as he watches. Victor isn't getting up. Why isn't Victor getting up?

"I can't believe this moment is finally here," JJ says, a chuckle of disbelief escaping through his lips, "Finally. Finally you and your family are going to pay."

 _"Get up, Victor,"_ Yuuri pleads in his mind, _"Please, please, please."_

Mila and Georgi are nowhere to be found. Yakov lies dead on the floor. There is no one to help Victor. The only one there is Yuuri.

It is that moment that Yuuri realizes that he is in perfect firing distance of JJ.

He looks down at the gun in his shaking hands. Could he? Could he actually? He raises the gun tentatively, fingers shaking as they find the trigger.

Can he do this? Can he actually . . .

Can he actually shoot someone?

Everything else falls away. White noise fills Yuuri's ears. He can see nothing, hear nothing but JJ, bloody knife in hand, and Victor, on the floor and too weak to move. His hand quivers.

 _"Do it, Yuuri. What are you afraid of?"_ A voice in his head says.

 _"I can never go back if I do this,"_ says another voice.

 _"You could never go back the minute you decided to walk the red-haired woman home,"_ the first voice laughs cruelly.

Yuuri shuts his eyes. He can't breathe. He can't breathe. He can't breathe, he can't talk, he can't move. All there is is Victor and the gun and JJ and the gun and Victor and JJ and Victor and the gun and JJ and _what does he do what is he supposed to do he doesn't know he doesn't know. He doesn't know._

He remembers the image of Victor lying dead on the floor from his dream.

The world slips away. He is left with only his thoughts. In his mind's eye, he sees the man from Morioka, standing in front of him in that dark alleyway so many months ago. In the back of his head, he can almost hear the lyrics to "Tiny Dancer" playing on the tinny radio of their old Jeep.

(The shots pelt the man.)

_But, oh, how it feels so real._

"You can't do anything now," JJ shouts, his voice manic, his eyes wide and crazy

(His limbs twist awkwardly like some odd jig.)

_Lying here with no one near._

"So watch, Nikiforov," JJ continues, "Watch your empire fall."

(The man falls.)

_Only you, and you can hear me._

JJ takes a step closer and kneels down by Victor's body.

(Glinting, green eyes wide open like a startled rabbit's.)

_When I say softly, slowly._

JJ lifts the knife high, eyes filled with pure anger.

(Victor leans over, lifting the man's head by his hair.)

_Hold me closer, tiny dancer._

JJ smiles and chuckles again. "A Nikiforov took my family from me once."

(He pulls the man's jaw open.)

_Count the headlights on the highway._

"I won't let one do it again," JJ says.

(Placing the pistol against the roof of his mouth.)

_Lay me down in sheets of linen._

Victor closes his eyes.

(Victor smiles.)

_You had a busy day today._

Yuuri's eyes snap open.

(He pulls the trigger.)

Yuuri pulls the trigger.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE BEEN WAITING SINCE THE BEGINNING OF TIME TO WRITE THIS CHAPTER. No seriously I've had this chapter planned since I started writing this story and I am so glad that I finally get to write it and I really hope you all enjoyed it! As always come talk to me at my tumblr @pasteurellapestis, comments fuel me, and I hope y'all liked this chapter!
> 
> Disclaimer: I think some people might've been confused by the last chapter but I just wanted to say right here that there is no Otayuri in this story. I have nothing against the ship but I don't feel that Yuri in a relationship is necessary to this story so Yuri's crush is just a little tidbit I wrote in there to be funny


	15. Uwu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yyyyo im sorry
> 
> this is marihy’s cousin bois i hope u like this chapter im taking over this fic temporarily w her permission
> 
> subscribe to Doki Doki Gang Violence mdudes

o-oh mman,,,,,,, victors eyes widened kawaiiiedly and there was a slowmo anime shot like when boku no pico slowed down at the part where he dicked

 

“holy ffuckkkfignd,,,,,,” he whimpered

 

“fwuck meeeeee like one of ur minion sluts” he nyad “put it in me u fuckin PUSSY >w<“ yuuri yelled

 

“o-oh boy i would but my dick is a lobster nyow??? haha man thats pwetty wild O////O” victor nya-ed kawaiiedly

 

“what a TUWN OF EVENTS ^_~” park jimin exclaimed, lounging back on the pillows as he watched the whole thing take place beside him on the dog bed

 

yuuri smiled, pushing victor back. “then get weady to take my mega dick, bitch OwO”

lol jk the real new chapter will be posted this week I promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry this is the author the new chapter will be out this week I promise


	16. Chapter 16

Isabella met JJ when they were both nineteen.She had no interest in him at first.Isabella typically went for the scholarly types who could engage her wits and keep her interested.JJ, however, was brawny and loud.He was dim-witted and always smiling and always willing to take a dare, and always did something to aggravate her.He was friends with her friends, though, which meant she had to put up with him on an almost daily basis, which also means she has to put with him while he’s drunk.Which is all the time.

 

Isabella lifts JJ by his armpits and heaves him into the passenger seat.He laughs drunkenly and collapses, arms slipping off the chair.Isabella sighs and throws his arms over the other side like he’s a rag doll.

 

“Useless idiot,” she mutters.

 

If it were any other day, she would not be driving JJ home.She’d have dumped him off in one of her friends’ cars and gotten the hell out of there.But all her friends are still in the bar, and JJ is too drunk to function, which means he’d gotten pawned off to her.

 

She climbs into the driver’s seat with a sigh and starts the car angrily.

 

“Izzie,” JJ whisper-shouts.

 

Isabella ignores him.She hates when people call her Izzie.

 

“Izzie,” he whisper-shouts louder.

 

She clenches her teeth and tightens her hands around the steering wheel.

 

“Izzieeeeeee,” he whisper-shouts even louder, spraying spit everywhere.

 

“What?” She hisses.

 

He opens his mouth, eyes shining before they cloud in confusion.He closes his mouth.

 

“I forgot,” he slurs sadly.

 

“Oh my god,” Isabella groans.

 

“I’m sorry,” JJ whines directly into Isabella’s ear.

 

“Jesus, JJ, I’m trying to drive!” Isabella shouts, turning to look at him furiously.

 

JJ opens his mouth to reply before a soft looks comes over his eyes and his mouth settles into a smile.

 

“You’re really pretty,” he says, eyes shining.

 

No, Isabella is not blushing just from some dumb guy calling her pretty, thank you very much.Isabella doesn’t blush.Especially not for stupid drunk guys with an IQ of negative 500.

 

“Like a snow angel,” JJ continues, “A super powerful snow angel who shoots ice from her fingers.”

 

JJ waves his fingers in front of him.“Woooo,” he says, giggling.

 

This is not endearing or adorable to Isabella at all, okay?It’s definitely not and she is not blushing and she hates stupid JJ with his shiny eyes and cute smile, okay?

 

“You’re so smart too!” JJ exclaims, “Like, wow!”He says.“It’s insane.Are you Wonder Woman?I think you might be Wonder Woman.”

 

“Shut up,” Isabella says gruffly, hiding her flushed face behind her hair, “But before you do, I need your address.”

 

JJ looks at her, confused, “Why?

 

“Um, to take you home?”

 

“Can’t you just take me to your apartment?” JJ pleads.

 

“Why don’t you want to go home?I thought you lived at your parents’ house.Won’t they be worried?” Isabella asks.

 

“My parents are dead,” JJ says very matter-factly.He makes a gun with his hand and presses his finger to his temple.“Pew,” He mimicks a gun’s noise as he draws his hand back, his head snapping against the seat.Isabella shivers.

 

“Okay, you can crash on my couch,” she says.

 

JJ squeals in excitement, bouncing up in his seat before smacking his head on the roof and wincing in pain. 

 

And no this doesn’t make Isabella’s heart swell in endearment, thank you very much. 

 

By the time Isabella has dragged JJ’s body up the stairs —fuck the broken elevator— all that endearment is pretty much gone.She heaves JJ through the door and tosses him onto the couch.

 

“Good night, asshole,” she says wearily, trudging to her room.

 

“Nighty-night, Izzie,” JJ slurs sweetly, “I’ll miss you.”

 

Isabella sprints to her room before her face can turn into a tomato again.

 

The next morning, Isabella trudges out to find a sleeping JJ fallen off the couch, a line of droll trailing out of his mouth.

 

“Hey,” she says loudly.

 

JJ doesn’t move.

 

Isabella walks over and prods him with her foot. 

 

“Hey!” She says louder.

 

JJ rolls over and snorts a little.

 

Isabella sighs and gets down on her knees before shoving JJ’s shoulder and yelling at him to wake the fuck up.

 

JJ wakes with a start and scrambles off the floor before wincing and clutching his head.He notices Isabella and turns bright red.

 

“Oh,” he coughs, “Hey, Izzie.”

 

“Hi,” Isabella deadpans

 

“Um,” he swallows awkwardly, “I’m really sorry about last night.”

 

“It’s fine,” Isabella says, but she must not sound very convincing because JJ looks down at the floor embarrassed.

 

“I really am sorry,” he says, “I could take you to breakfast?As a thank you?”

 

Isabella considers it.She does deserve some free food for putting up with JJ last night, and at least if he’s eating he can’t talk at the same time.

 

“Okay,” she says.

 

JJ looks surprised, “Wait, really?”

 

“Yeah?” Isabella says, “Why not?”

 

JJ smiles, “I just didn’t expect you to say yes, wow!”

 

“Okay then,” Isabella says, a little confused.

 

They stand there in silence for a moment, JJ’s smile a little strained.

 

“So...” Isabella starts after a while, “Are we gonna go?”

 

“Right!” JJ starts up and opens the door, “After you!”

 

~

 

“I thought you hated JJ and now you’re going out with him like every weekend,” Alice says one day while they sit in Isabella’s apartment and drink tea.

 

“We’re not going out.We’re just friends,” Isabella rolls her eyes.

 

“Hm sure,” Alice sips her tea.

 

“He’s really not that bad once you get to know him.He’s actually really sweet,” Isabella says.

 

“I didn’t say he wasn’t.I’m just saying there’s obviously something between you guys,” Alice replies.

 

Isabella opens her mouth to counter before a knock on the door distracts the both of them.

 

“Who’s that?” Alice asks.

 

Isabella opens her mouth then closes it.She fiddles with her hair and mumbles, “JJ.”

 

“Of course it is,” Alice winks.

 

“Alice, come on,” Isabella whines.

 

“Nope, I’ve heard enough,” Alice gets up, “I’ll be out of you and your boyfriend’s hair in just a moment.”

 

Isabella rolls her eyes and walks over to the door, opening it to a very sweaty, panting JJ.His shirt clings to his abs and he runs a hand through his sweaty hair, spiking it up.

 

Isabella very audibly gulps.

 

“Sorry, I was out for a run and I didn’t have time to shower before I came here!”

JJ apologizes, smiling.

 

“Oh, Isabella doesn’t mind,” Alice says.

 

Isabella fixes Alice with a sharp glare before turning to JJ and smiling.“It’s fine,” she says.

 

“Great!” JJ says, stepping inside.

 

Isabella takes a moment to control her breathing.She’s fine.The initial shock has worn off and now she’s calm and cool and collected and —is he taking his shirt off?

 

JJ whips his t-shirt off and mops his sweaty forehead with it.His muscles stretch as he does, and Isabella forgets how to breath.Alice raises an eyebrow appreciatively. 

 

JJ looks over at Isabella curiously.“Hey are you okay?” He asks, “you look kind of red.”

 

“She’s more than okay,” Alice mutters, as Isabella flushes even redder.

 

“I hope you don’t have a fever,” JJ says concerned.

 

He steps forward, his shirtless, sweaty body cornering Isabella against the cabinets, and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead.

 

“You don’t feel hot,” JJ says, “I can run out and grab some ibuprofen if you don’t feel good, though.”

 

Isabella can’t even breathe, let alone think long enough to formulate a sentence, with a shirtless JJ this close to her, so Alice —bless her— steps in.

 

“I think Isabella would appreciate it if you did just that,” she says.

 

“Okay!” He smiles, pulls his t-shirt back on, and leaves with a wave.

 

Isabella sinks to the floor, still unable to function properly.

 

“You good there, Miss We’re-Just-Friends?” Alice asks dryly.

 

“I hate you,” Isabella says.

 

~

 

They get together after a year of being friends.It is on a beautiful winter’s day and they are walking home from the movies.It’s cold, and Isabella would he shivering if not for the flushed embarrassment that never goes away from being so close to JJ.

 

At this point, Isabella is past denying that she has feelings for JJ.She can’t deny the feeling she gets every time she’s with him anymore.She’s not sure she wants to anymore.

 

What happens is almost so cliche it makes Isabella want to barf.

 

It’s just started snowing when they pass a building playing a love song at an unreasonably loud volume.Ugh, Isabella hates this song.It’s overplayed and really not that good.

 

“Awe, I love this song!It’s so sweet,” JJ exclaims.

 

Isabella decides the song isn’t that bad.

 

JJ turns to her with a grin she’s learned to associate with mischief and shenanigans that usually end up with something or someone breaking.

 

“Whatever you’re thinking, no,” she says.

 

“Let’s dance,” he says.

 

“Excuse me?” Isabella asks incredulously.

 

“The song’s nice, it’s snowing, it’ll be fun!” JJ says.

 

“I’m not going to dance with you, in the middle of the sidewalk, in public, to a song playing from inside a building,” Isabella says.

 

“Come on,” JJ pouts, “For me?”He opens his arms wide.

 

Isabella is a weak weak person.

 

“Fine,” she grumbles.She steps into his arms and JJ closes them around her waist so they’re hugging.Her breath hitches as she wraps her arms around his shoulders.JJ smiles down at her as they start swaying.Isabella avoids his gaze and decides to chalk the blush that follows to the cold.

 

“You’re beautiful,” JJ says quietly.

 

“Huh?” She looks up at him, the flush spreading up to her ears.

 

“You are,” JJ smiles fondly.

 

She looks down, “Shut up.”

 

“It’s true,” he says, still smiling that irresistible smile.

 

Isabella avoids his gaze.Okay, she can handle this.As long as he doesn’t keep calling her beautiful, there’s no reason to be embarrassed.They’re just two friends having a good time together.That’s all.

 

Then JJ starts to sing along to the song, and Isabella throws all those thoughts out the window.His voice is nothing short of angelic, and Isabella’s jaw drops.He looks beautiful when he sings, she notes, he looks free.For once, she can’t bring herself to look away.

 

He turns to look her square in the eyes, sweet voice still crooning the lyrics as if he’s singing directly to her.Isabella’s heart flutters because their faces are so close now and his voice is bewitching and before she can register what’s happening their lips are pressing together and fireworks are going off behind her eyelids.

 

JJ smiles against her lips.“I love you,” he whispers.

 

Isabella is too blissed out to care about the next words that fall from her lips.

 

“I love you too.”

 

~

 

They have their first fight six months later.

 

JJ has always been secretive.He never invites people to his house, and he never talks about his family.He doesn’t talk about where he works, but always seems to have an endless stream of cash, if the too-expensive presents he buys Isabella are any indication.The only time Isabella has ever heard anything about his family is that time when she was driving him home and he was drunk and told her his parents are dead.

 

Lately, Isabella has been replaying that little eerie moment, when JJ, with an apathy she’d never seen from him, had pressed his fingers to a head and pantomimed the gunshot with such a creepily accurate portrayal that Isabella still gets shivers.

 

She doesn’t want to press him to tell her things, but his secrecy causes strains in their relationship.Isabella never yells, could never yell at JJ, but sometimes she can’t control the snippy comments after a hard day at work, or the sneakily weirded questions when she’s just a little too tipsy.

 

Eventually, JJ pulls her aside and tells her he wants to invite her over to her house.

 

“Oh, god,” Isabella says, “I am so sorry.I don’t mean to be so pushy and annoying about this, really, I don’t.I shouldn’t mind that you want to keep some things secret.You really don’t have to do this.”

 

“I want to,” he says, “I really do,”

 

“Are you sure?” She asks.

 

“Yes,” he says firmly.

 

JJ’s house is buried deep in the woods, Isabella notes after a half-hour driving on a dirt road which seems to be in the middle nowhere.

 

They finally reach a paved section, leading up to a driveway and Isabella can’t help it when her eyes widen.

 

JJ’s house is huge.And not even the normal kind of huge but like actually huge.Like celebrity huge.It’s like if someone gave a rustic log cabin steroids and then mixed it with a mansion from 2056.

 

They drive up to large iron gates flanked on either side by twin towers.As they near, Isabella realizes that one armed guard stands in each one.She gulps.Damn, who is JJ?

 

JJ waves his hand out the window at the guards and they lower their guns.The gates swing open and they drive up the driveway into the garage.JJ opens the door for Isabella and she steps into t a foyer twice the size of her apartment.

 

“You have this whole place to yourself?” Isabella says in awe.

 

“Yeah, pretty much,” JJ says.

 

“Don’t you get lonely?” Isabella asks.

 

JJ looks at her funny for a second, “Yeah, I guess I do.”

 

“Well, I’m here now, aren’t I?” Isabella wraps her arms around him.

 

“Yeah,” he smiles, “Yeah, you are.”

 

~

 

They are sitting in JJ’s extravagantly decorated office when it happens.JJ’s phone buzzes loudly, and he looks down at it and curses.

 

“I’m really sorry, Izzie, I gotta take this,” he says.

 

Isabella nods, “It’s fine.”

 

JJ answers the call.“What,” he barks.Isabella startles.She’s never heard that tone of voice from him before.

 

JJ listens to the person on the other side of the call talk for a bit.“What?” He spits, “No, I specifically told you to cancel anything I had today.”He listens more.“Well get him to come back tomorrow!I don’t care if he won’t listen, make him listen!Goddamnit why do I have you hired if you can’t even do your job!”

 

Isabella sits there, confused.She opens her mouth to ask if everything’s okay when they hear a pounding on the door.

 

“Goddamnit,” JJ mutters.“Excuse me,” he says into the phone, “There is a knock on the door.If that is who I think it is, we’re going to have to have a talk.”

 

The pounding increases in force.

 

“Is everything okay?” Isabella asks.She’s getting worried now.

 

“Yeah, it’s fine,” JJ says, definitely not sounding fine, “Stay here and don’t move.”

 

“JJ, you’re worrying me,” Isabella says.

 

“Don’t be worried, it’ll be fine,” JJ kisses her on the forehead and smiles, but his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “I’ll be right back.”

 

Isabella waits anxiously.She hears JJ walk down the stairs as the pounding increases.He slams the door open.

 

“What the fuck, JJ?” Isabella hears someone say.

 

“I don’t have time for this right now, Chris,” JJ replies, “I’m busy.”

 

Who the fuck is Chris?Isabella knows all of JJ’s friends, and she’s never heard of a Chris.

 

“Since when do you answer your own doors anyway?” Chris asks, “Where’s the staff?”

 

“Not here,” JJ says through gritted teeth, “Now, go away.”

 

“Not until I get what I came here for,”

Chris shoves past JJ and strides in.

 

“We can do this tomorrow,” JJ says in a low voice.

 

“No, we really can’t.I need to know right now if you’re with me on this,” Chris says loudly.

 

“You know I am.Now shushhh,” JJ says quietly.

 

“I would think you’d be a little more interested in this because of your parents,” Chris hisses.

 

Isabella’s ears perk up.JJ’s parents?

 

“I said, shut up!” JJ hushes Chris hurriedly.

 

But Isabella’s curiosity has been piqued.

 

She quietly creeps out of the office, down the hallway, and towards the stairs, pausing far enough back that neither man will be able to see her.

 

The men have started whispering, and she can’t hear.She manages to catch the word “Nikiforov”, which for some reason sounds oddly familiar to her.She can swear she’s heard that name before.She creeps closer to the staircase to try and hear more.

 

Chris’s eyes flicker upward towards her, and Isabella’s blood recoils when she realizes she’s been seen.

 

“Hey,” he shouts angrily, “Hey, what the fuck.”

 

JJ turns to look and his eyes widen when he sees Isabella.He turns to Chris frantically.

 

“Chris, it’s fine, okay, I swear.Just leave her alone.She didn’t hear any-“

 

Chris cuts him off.“I’ll be the judge of that,” he mutters, pulling a pistol out of the waistband of his pants.Isabella gasps but freezes.

 

“Chris, put the fucking gun away,” JJ says, stepping in front of him, teeth gritted.

 

“No, I think I need to have a talk with the lady.Make sure she doesn’t have a penchant for gossiping to her little lady friends,” Chris continues, “What is she even doing here anyway?”

 

“Chris,” JJ says, a warning tone in his voice.

 

“You want me to shoot you instead?” Chris hisses.

 

“I’m coming down!” Isabella says, before JJ can answer.

 

She walks slowly down the steps, her heart pounding in her chest.

 

“Wow,” Chris says, eyes raking down her figure in a way that makes her itch all over, “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in JJ’s house.”He winks.

 

“Chris, stop it,” JJ growls, stepping protectively in front of Isabella.

 

Chris smirks, “I’m not doing anything.Just making conversation.”

 

He steps towards Isabella.

 

“Now I’m going to tell you what’s going to happen now, pretty,” he starts to say.

 

He raises the gun, and Isabella acts.

 

She grabs the hand holding the gun and twists his arm, flipping him onto the floor.She wrenches the gun out of his grip, tosses it at JJ, and pins his wrists together.

 

JJ almost forgets to grab the gun. 

 

“Whoa,” he breathes.

 

It is later, once Chris has been taken care of, that they sit in JJ’s office, not speaking.

 

“I’m sorry,” JJ says, finally.

 

“It’s not your fault,” Isabella replies, “Besides, I’m not hurt or anything.”

 

“I know, I just-“ JJ runs a hand through his hair, “I didn’t want you to find out like this but, I- my family, I mean- well, it’s-“

 

“I know,” Isabella says.

 

JJ swallows, “I- I understand if you don’t want to- if you don’t want to be with me anymore.”

 

“Who said I’d want that?” Isabella turns to JJ.

 

“I- I just- I didn’t know,” JJ keeps his gaze fixed on the floor.

 

“JJ,” Isabella gets up and takes his hands in hers, “You know this won’t make me love you any less.”

 

JJ sighs, breath ragged, and wraps his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder.

 

Isabella takes a deep breath before continuing.

 

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she starts, “But who is Nikiforov?”

 

JJ tenses.

 

“You really don’t-“ Isabella starts.

 

“No, it’s fine,” he says, “I want to tell you.”

 

He pulls back to sit down, and Isabella sits down next to him.

 

“Nikiforov is Alexei and Katerina Nikiforov,” JJ starts.

 

Isabella’s mind clicks in recognition.So that’s why they sounded so familiar.She’d seen a magazine article about them a few years ago, one of the richest couples in the world.She remembers seeing a picture of them, a beautiful couple with the same hard blue eyes and pale hair.They stood there, unsmiling like two sculptures carved from ice, with their sons, one tall and regal, with the same silver hair as his father, and one small and mean-looking with distinctive green eyes.

 

“They used to the Bratva, the biggest gang in Russia,” JJ continues, “They killed my parents.”

 

“Oh my god,” Isabella breathes, “JJ I’m so sorry.”

 

“It was a long time ago,” JJ continues, “They’re dead now.Their son Victor runs the Bratva these days.But he’ll probably come for me soon anyway.”

 

“What do you mean?” Isabella asks.

 

“They control all drug exports and imports into North America through Alaska,” JJ says, “They’ve got most of Canada buying from them, which means a lot of money lost for me.It’s only a matter of time before he comes to kill me and claim the meager bits of territory I still have.”

 

“I won’t let that happen,” Isabella says.

 

“I don’t want you mixed up in this,” JJ says, “I know you can handle yourself, but you shouldn’t have to.”

 

“JJ, I love you,” Isabella says, “I’d do anything for you.”

 

She runs her hands through his hair.JJ leans into her fingers but doesn’t answer.

 

~

 

It takes a while to convince JJ that they can do this together.The idea that he is forcing Isabella into a life she doesn’t want stays in his head for a long time.Isabella doesn’t think it fully goes away at all, but it lessens.Especially once they get married.

 

Isabella had proposed three years after they got together, and they’d gotten married on a beautiful summer day in a beautiful cathedral and she’d never been happier.  She was here to stick with JJ.  She was here to be with him through thick and thin.  She loved him.  She loved how bright he was, how he shone.  She loved the light in his eyes that glittered when he looked at her, when she became pregnant, when Elizabeth was born.  It was a light that inspired her, gave her courage.

It is the same light that Isabella watches die as Yuuri Katsuki puts a bullet through his skull.

As his body falls, Isabella is reminded of drunk, nineteen-year-old JJ, pressing his finger to his temple.

”Pew.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all the people who didn’t unsubscribe after the joke chapter, y’all are the real OGs. And thank all of you so so so much for being so so patient I know it’s been a while since I’ve uploaded but thank you all for still sticking with me!

**Author's Note:**

> Hi thanks so much for reading! Leave a comment if you can and come talk to me at my tumblr @pasteurellapestis [ here ](http://pasteurellapestis.tumblr.com) This fic does not have a beta reader so I'm sorry for any mistakes.


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